Clarion:Part 3 -The Cause
by MostDismalFeldsparkle
Summary: January 2156. Disaster strikes a Coalition world.
1. Chapter 1

**Author note: This is the third part of Clarion.**

 **Part 1 (** **s/11985890/1/Clarion-Part-1-The-Sparrow)**

 **and Part 2 (** **s/12097189/1/Clarion-Part-2-Hillside)**

 **are independent stories, but their events and characters are referenced on occasion. Catch up or don't catch up at your discretion.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek Enterprise, it's characters or settings. These things belong to CBS/Paramount and are not my intellectual property. There is no finiancial gain made from this nor will any be sought. It is for entertainment purposes only.**

* * *

 **January 2156**

It was, on this occasion, Liz herself that first read the alert notification sent my the Interspecies Medical Exchange. She was safely seated cross- legged on a workbench, protected by the Pyrithian bat, while the rest of the medical staff hunted down the escaped colony of hallucinogenic spiders.

"There's one in my pants," Andy howled again. "IN MY PANTS!"

"Well, I can't help ye, if you won't take you won't take your pants off," Alice replied impatiently. This impatience was rather brazen given that Alice had been no calmer when a small cadre of baby spiders had run across her eyelid about twenty minutes ago.

"Alice, just slap me here and KILL it," Andy wailed, pointing to an area quite high on his outer thigh.

"Don't kill it!" Phlox interrupted, who was rummaging through a nearby cupboard for half-remembered spider attractant. "I haven't yet located my prize breeding male."

Averting her eyes as Andy shimmied out of his pants, Liz turned her attention to the text of the alert notification...a bad flu season on Earth... a liver fluke infestation on Andoria...and...

"Dr Phlox, have you seen this?" Liz asked, although she knew he hadn't. "There's an IME alert for Denobula."

"Oh?" Phlox's head emerged from the cupboard. "What does it...Alice - be careful! - that's a gravid female! You hold the lives of thousands of unborn spiders in your hand."

"All the more reason to squash it and feed it to Hecate," Alice hissed.

"Would you please stop naming the bat?!" Phlox replied crossly, rescuing the teacup-sized spider. "And please, take this spider recovery more seriously! This is the most successful captive breeding colony of these spiders that has ever been established! And even if you are bitten, the worst that will happen is a few hours of hallucinations, a day at most, and I would be astonished if the boils lasted long than a month and... My apologies, Elizabeth, what were - Watch where you are stepping, Andy! - what were you saying?"

"There's an alert for Denobula," Liz repeated herself heavily, the room stilling slightly at here tone.

"Something freaky?" Andy asked hesitantly, almost in a whisper. "Something mind controlly?"

That had been what they'd been waiting for. Since _Treleishkah_. Since the Aenar clones. Some hint of the Romulan's next move.

"No...but...it's a spike in perinatal mortality. A big one."

"Childbirth deaths?" Andy replied. "You mean the babies, or...?"

"Both." Liz replied heavily. "It's at three percent in some areas and possibly rising."

"Three percent?" Alice blinked "That's ridiculous. Let me see that... Catastrophic haemorrhage? What the hell?"

Liz lifted her eyes to meet Phlox's. "Your daughter...you've mentioned..."

Phlox nodded slowly. "Yes. One of my daughters is expecting a child in a few months."

This declaration was followed by uncomfortable silence, eventually broken by Andy. "I mean... A few months...I'm sure it will be sorted by then. Right? I mean it's got to be a statistical blip, or maybe a contaminated pharmaceutical of some sort...and GET PORTHOS OF THE FLOOR!"

Jonathan Archer, who had just entered sickbay unnoticed, blinked. "Why? Is it made of lava?"

"No," Alice interrupted tensely, still frowning at the alert as if she could change the facts by staring at them. "Spiders."

Archer blinked. "The floor is made of spiders? What's going on?"

"Spider escape," Liz supplied, braving the spiders in order to stand at attention. "Also..."

"Also...?"

"Also, possible Romulan activity on Denobula," Alice interrupted again.

"There's no proof of that," Liz replied quickly, glancing at Phlox. "This doesn't exactly match what we know about their M.O."

Archer frowned. "What doesn't?"

""Does it not?" Alice replied. "Genocidal? Targeting the vulnerable? Sounds like them to me."

Seeing Phlox pale, Liz shot back angrily. "You need to calm down, Alice. Stop wildly speculating. You know who you sound like, don't you?"

"What's happened on Denobula?" Archer asked again, adding an edge to his voice that headed off further argument, although the menace was rather lessened by the wiggling Beagle in his arms.

"It's not yet clear," Phlox answered calmly, now surveying the alert himself. "A large and unexplained spike in civilian deaths... New mothers and their babies. Denobula has formally requested the assistance of the Interspecies Medical Exchange who have...ah!...who have, this moment, asked me to make myself available to investigate and respond to the crisis. Apparently, Admiral Gardiner will be sending you a similar message regarding _Enterprise_ quite presently."

Archer's brow crinkled. "You must be worried, an emergency on Denobula... Your family is there. Is anyone in your family...expecting?"

"As we were saying when you came in, Captain, one of my daughters is pregnant with her first child. And, now that I think about it, ome of Feezel's daughters-in-law is pregnant as well; the lady in question is due much sooner than my Palayjah, I believe."

"I'm sure it will be all right," Archer responded soothingly. "I'll get Travis to plot a course now, and we'll head for Denobula as soon as the order from... HOLY SHIT! WHAT IS THAT ON ALICE'S FACE?"

"That would be Phlox's prize stud spider," Alice hissed through clenched teeth, apparently trying to move as little as possible.

"I'm surprised you haven't named him," Phlox sniffed, gently retrieving the spider and placing him back in the terrarium.

Alice hid her expression in her cup of coffee. "I'll name him now, if you like..."

"They seem very attracted to your face," Phlox pondered. "Perhaps it's that peculiar eyeshadow you are wearing? Go and fetch it and we'll see if we can lure the rest."

"The rest...?" Archer interrupted. "Just how many of those things are loose in sickbay?"

"No more than a few hundred. Mostly tiny, of course."

* * *

"You have a headache."

She speaks matter-of-factly, it is not a question, and she does not wait for an answer before touching her cool fingertips to his temple.

Trip sighs, lets the PADD fall into his lap and leans backwards into her caress "Yeah, I do. How'd ya know?"

"I felt it," she replies simply, then, "You should go to sickbay."

He chuckles darkly. "Oh no. Jon says the damn place is full of escaped spiders. A dozen wild horses couldn't drag me..."

"I am quite certain even one enraged quadruped of that size, could indeed drag you there," T'Pol answers, her fingers tracing runes across the skin of his forehead. "Still, I am quite capable of blocking the pain, so if you wish to suffer, it is no concern of mine."

"Good to know, darlin'. Good to know."

"Is the sensation pleasing?" She asks.

She means the runes she is tracing. Even after her fingers have moved on he can clearly feel the residue of the shapes, like the after image of a bright light seen against closed eyelids. They feel warm and somehow electric, and she has begun tracing them onto his bare back.

"This something you're learning from your Kir'shara thing?" He asks.

"Indeed."

"So...I'm some sort of religious guinea pig, right now?"

"If it is unpleasant I will stop. However, I know it is not."

Trip chuckles. "You can feel that, can you?"

T'Pol raises an eyebrow. "Indeed. But more pertinently..." She glances downward, "...I can SEE it."

"Good point."

"It has its good qualities, yes."

* * *

Hoshi pulled herself up straighter. "Co-ordinates to where?"

"Denobula" Travis repeated. "I know you heard me."

Hoshi buried her face in a pillow. "But we can't! We are due on Kreetassa in two weeks. They'll go ballistic!"

Travis shrugged, and sat up straighter himself, propping a pillow behind his back. "Sorry Hosh. It's some sort of humanitarian mission, that's all I was told. I'm sure we'll get more at the briefing. Don't worry about the Kreetassans. I know they've been driving you crazy..."

Hoshi huffed, and narrowed her eyes.

"...poor choice of words, sorry." Travis apologised hastily. "I just meant, look at this as a good thing! The Kreetassans are the Vulcans' problem now...Let them protocol each other to death."

A smile quirked on Hoshi's face. "Better the Vulcans than the Andorians. Can you imagine Shran's face if they wrapped his knuckles over setting ships time to the capital city? He'd shove a sacred tree so far up their..."

"HOSHI!" Travis exclaimed with mock horror. "I'm ashamed at you. It's obvious to everyone that the Tellarites are the ideal people to negotiate with the Kreetassans."

"We don't need TWO wars on our hands, Travis."

This sobered Travis quite a bit. "We aren't at war yet, Hoshi..."

Hoshi slid into his waiting arms, but whispered to herself that it was only a matter of time. It was almost inaudible.


	2. Chapter 2

T'Pol slid into the ready room chair, ignoring the ever present twinge in her legs. It had been most of a year now, since _Treleishkah_ , perhaps time enough that she should accept that the pain had improved as much as her biology allowed. The permanence of the change snagged in her chest, but her breath hitched just the once, she had a job to do.

To distract herself, she studied her captain instead. He also showed signs of wear. Yet more lines were permanently adorned his face, and they were not lines which suggested much time spent happily. Also, grey hairs had begun periodically appearing and disappearing on his head. Presumably, he was adding some sort of pigment to his hair to disguise the grey. Hoshi quietly tittered every time he appeared on the bridge after doing so, suggested this was not in T'Pol's imagination.

"You have seen this report on the situation on Denobula," T'Pol began abruptly, after Archer caught her perusing his hair roots.

Archer nodded. "Yes, I've seen them. Although, _why_ we have to go charging over there... I mean, this is a starship, not an ambulance. Denobula is _crawling_ with doctors. What difference are our two going to make? Denobula is also _crawling_ with scientists. What difference is...?"

"Denobula has no military fleet," T'Pol interrupted. "This is a 'good will' mission. It is diplomacy, not humanitarian aid."

"Diplomacy, huh?" Archer chuckled dryly. "I suppose I must take the word of the diplomat."

Confused, T'Pol narrowed her eyes. "I do not understand your reluctance. I find it difficult to believe you would PREFER to go to Kreetassa."

"Kreetassa is strategic, T'Pol! It's near Romulan space. And our alliance with them is sketchy at best. Denobula is no threat to us..."

"Captain! Denobula is experiencing a highly destabilising event. Civil unrest is not out of the question. Conceivably such a situation might even devolve into civil war..."

"Then, they would be ESPECIALLY not a threat!" Archer's snapped words hung in the air, for a moment, before the man's face softened a little, slight remorse lining his eyes.

T'Pol cleared her throat. "Captain, there are people who believe that this medical situation might somehow be the result of Romulan activity."

"And are any of these people NOT our increasingly deranged tactical officer?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I, myself, for one."

Archer stared at her through his furrowed brows. "You, T'Pol?"

"Indeed. While I suppose this could be a natural event, the timing is...suspicious."

"And what is 'this' exactly?" Archer replied tensely. "Half the reports are in medical gibberish and the other half are in scientific gibberish. I can't make head or tail of them."

"Some sort of catastrophic disorder of placentation. It is manifesting in two ways. In late pregnancy it creates dysfunctional connections between the maternal and feral circulation making it very difficult for either the mother to survive any delivery except a hysterectomy and the affected fetuses are rarely surviving at all. There are even some reports of the placenta infiltrating pelvic structures beyond the uterus and causing sudden fatal internal exsanguination."

"T'Pol..."

"Women are bleeding to death and losing their offspring. And the number of affected pregnancies is still rising."

"T'Pol..."

"And this may not be the most worrying part. The early pregnancy rate is falling drastically. This is not yet known by the Denobulan populace but in the city of Endyalax there have been fewer than two hundred new pregnancies confirmed in the past three months. Endyalax has a population of 700 million people."

"T'Pol..."

"If these trends continue unameliorated, Denobula will be at risk of a severe population bottleneck and potentially..."

"It was a year ago, wasn't it? A year ago today? I'm sorry I forgot. Are you okay?"

T'Pol inhaled and exhaled slowly before replying. "I am sufficiently composed for duty, Captain."

Archer nodded, not quite meeting her eyes. "So, Denobula?"

"Denobula."

* * *

"Well, I suppose I shouldn't complain," Malcolm grumbled reluctantly. "At least it will give me a chance to reinstall these new couplers..."

He was are fair way down the access tube, far enough that Alice's reply was tinny and faint.

"Those are the DX317 couplers you're installing, then?"

Out of sight as he was, Malcolm made no effort to suppress his eye-roll. "Becoming an expert on couplers, are we?"

There was a slight pause before the reply drifted down, and when it did, it was accompanied by an insipid, beefy aroma. She'd apparently brought food with her.

"Not an expert, no. I don't know a D'Braissian coupler fitted inflow assembly from a double-reflected flow manifold, but I DO recall Trip saying that DX317 couplers would only improve hull plating polarisation by 0.2%...so I was wondering why..."

Malcolm threw down the hypo-spanner he was working with. It was a petulant gesture, as he immediately acknowledged to himself, resulting only in an unpleasant clunk which had far more affect on him, than on the distant cause of his irritation.

"Because, Alice, eventually there will be a fire fight. And, we will be hit by things in this fire fight. And those things will be of a particular strength. And somewhere on the spectrum of strengths is a value which will kill you, and me, and every other bloody person on this ship, and 0.2% below that strength, at least some of us AREN'T splattered all over the cosmos. I mean hopefully YOU still are, but..."

"And do you really think that's an efficient use of your time?", came the inappropriately chirpy reply.

"I'm off duty," Malcolm snapped in reply, picking up the hypo-spanner again. "And I will spend my off duty time doing whatever I bloody-well please. They are OUT THERE, don't you get that? Watching us... waiting for us to lapse into complacency again. And THAT's when they will strike."

There pause was _just_ long enough for Malcolm to feel hopeful that she'd gotten bored and wandered off. But then, alas. Alice's voice drifted down to him again. "And you don't think that sounds a little paranoid?"

"Yes." Malcolm replied, suddenly wishing he could see the expression on her face when he said it. "And before you react to that, I suggest you strip away any baggage you are carrying about paranoia. Paranoia has advantages and disadvantages, just like anything else. And, with a command structure to keep me in check, the only disadvantages of paranoia fall on me personally, and that is my own concern and no business of yours, whatsoever. I absolve you of all responsibility for my well-being. All you need to do is sit back and parasitically reap the benefits. No down side, you see?"

"I see you've spent a lot of time rationalising your paranoia," came the slightly chilly reply. "Time you could have spent making pointlessly minor system improvements."

"Just GO AWAY, Alice."

"I'll go away if you eat something. I brought you stew. It's pretty good...well, it's alright...well, it's food. And unless you have rationalised away the laws of physics, performing pointless upgrades requires fuel."

Malcolm rolled his eyes again and a quick cost benefit analysis of eating the stew, but then rejected the result in irritation. "What's behind your obsession with feeding me, anyway? Wouldn't my collapse from hunger better serve your agenda of dangerously underprepared weapon systems?"

"Believe it or not, I'm trying to help you. EVERYONE is trying to help you actually, but I'm more stubborn than most people, and so..."

"Oh please," he interrupted. "You fucked up by ignoring Travis's thing for too long, and now you are channeling your guilt into bugging the hell out of me."

"You really get a lot of rationalisation done down there, don't you?"

"Just fuck off, Alice! And take the bowl of carrion you brought with you. I do not have time for your nonsense."

He was slightly surprised when she did. Slightly remorseful, but not for long.


	3. Chapter 3

"You're worried," Liz murmured. Her words drifted through the darkened room.

The reply was a long time coming, and brusque. "Of course I'm worried."

Liz let the sheets slide off of her and crossed the room only covered my darkness. "Your daughter - it's Palayjah who's pregnant, is it? - will be fine."

She barely perceived the answering nod in the darkness.

"I expect she will, yes. If nothing else, I expect she will be amenable to a hysterectomy. She is a doctor, after all."

"I'm sure it won't come to that," Liz soothed. With Denobulans, a comforting touch was always at risk of being taken as sexual. Knowing this, Liz decided her next move may as well be intentionally dual-purpose.

* * *

"It's worse than they thought," Archer announced shortly, when T'Pol answered a hail to his ready room. He punctuated his displeasure by tossing a PADD at her. A human might have dropped it.

"10% of births are now affected, and climbing," Archer said, as T'Pol read the same information for herself off the classified report she had been tossed. "It's appearing in new cities. The Denobulan press are in a frenzy. There are even reports of riots! Riots, T'Pol! Rioting Denobulans! Can you imagine?"

"Yes," T'Pol said, using the time which a literal answer brought her to think. "I can imagine". A hard knot was forming in her core.

"Starfleet Intelligence has suppressed a report from IME stating that this could be an extinction level event. It's already been classified a humanitarian disaster. We will be there in four days. I'm appointing you officer in charge of our scientific and humanitarian response. I'll need you to coordinate from the ground the collection of..."

"Me?" T'Pol interrupted loudly enough to stop Archer mid-sentence. "Surely one of the doctors..."

Archer shook his dead. "No way in hell. Phlox is personally involved and Alice has all the diplomatic savvy of an inebriated elephant. It has to be you. Time to make use of that away-mission clearance you fought so hard for."

The knot in T'Pol's stomach pulled tighter, all but strangling her. She nodded occasionally as Archer continued to talk, his instructions nothing but a muffled blur of sound. When he finally finished, she strode toward sick bay at a speed that would cost her many hours of pain im her trembling legs.

She found sickbay empty, apart from Alice and her latest steaming cup of coffee. The smell, mingled with her exhaustion and her pain, made T'Pol gag. "I need a favour..." she managed, while swallowing bile.

"Pain killers aren't favours..." Alice began eyeing T'Pol's legs suspiciously.

T'Pol shook her head. "No. I need you to revoke my away-mission clearance."

"Very funny," Alice replied, sipping her coffee. "Want me to assign you pot-washing duty too?"

"I'm quite serious," T'Pol gasped, sinking into a chair with enough force to buy her the other woman's full attention. "I cannot go down to Denobula."

"T'Pol, you've been working to get your away-mission clearance back for almost a year. All those endurance tests, all that physical therapy... What's going on?"

"You do not want me to answer that..." It was only later when T'Pol realised that this was the last thing she should have said. It was only later that she thought of dozens of plausible lies.

"I NEED you to answer that," Alice replied, brow furrowed. "I will revoke your clearance, if that's what you need, of course I will, but you NEED to tell me what's..."

"...I am pregnant."

* * *

"You're pregnant?"

T'Pol's announcement had resulted in a spill of a small, but piping-hot, volume of coffee. Unfortunately, this did not prove a sufficient distraction.

"Pregnant?" Alice demanded again, while sucking several of her fingers.

"I believe the proper first aid is cold, running water," T'Pol replied with more calm than she felt. A great deal could depend upon this conversation.

"Don't change the subject," Alice shot back, though she at least removed her fingers from her mouth. "Pregnant? How? Why?"

T'Pol scowled and set her shoulders. "Was the 'how' not covered in your medical school?"

"And, the male Vulcan that nobody told me was on board is, who?" The sharp words hung in the room, demanding an answer.

"The baby is Trip's," T'Pol replied heavily. "Commander Tucker's."

Alice's face changed almost imperceptibly at that, although her tone did not. "And, that brings us back to 'how'."

T'Pol felt herself shift uncomfortably. "I... That is hard to explain..."

"Try me..."

"Will you revoke my away- mission clearance?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "Oh, you better believe I will. You aren't setting foot on that planet while you're pregnant. But now this cat is out of the bag, it needs a collar and a bell, so you'd best give me the rest of it. How exactly did you get pregnant?"

T'Pol lowered her eyes. "I am a considerably better scientist than those of Terra Prime."

"...A seven-year-old with a bottle rocket is a considerably better scientist than those of Terra Prime." Alice scoffed. "What are you SAYING?"

T'Pol's words came haltingly; she had not imagined this particular audience for them. There might be advantages to this disclosure, though, she realised. Confidentiality, for one. A human perspective. Some clue of what she should do. "I only intended to experiment. To learn as much as I could. About how to create a healthy, hybrid baby. To start a family. To be sure that it was possible before...I never intended to implant one..."

"…oh dear..."

"...but then there was this one. One particular embryo. I did the gene sequencing. I projected the likely transcriptomes... I had modulated the epigenetic regulatory factors...and this embryo, it...she...resembled Elizabeth. When the time came to dispose of it I...the chance of pregnancy resulting when I'd made no preparation was slim. I thought it would fail, but that I could tell myself I'd done all I could do. Only..."

"...only you're pregnant."

"Yes. The implantation proved successful."

Alice took a long draft of her coffee. T'Pol noticed several blisters were forming on her untended fingers. "And Trip knows...?"

"He knows about none of this." T'Pol replied and sighed now the last of it was out. She would get her clearance revoked and the rest would fall as it must. "How should I tell him?"

Alice paused for a moment. "And who else DOES know? Apart from me? How much do your science minions know about this experiment of yours?"

"I have taken precautions," T'Pol replied, thrown of kilter by the unexpected reply. "No one else, apart from you, is aware of any of this. Now what do you suggest I do? I realise this is... I need human advice."

"Human advice," Alice sighed heavily. "I suppose I just about qualify. Tell me, though. Do you want my sensible, ethical advice? Or do you want my actual advice?"

T'Pol frowned. "I suspect I can predict the former, so I suppose I want the latter..."

"Lie."

T'Pol blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Lie through your fucking teeth. You pretend you have no idea how this happened. It's a million to one shot! It's a miracle! Spontaneous pregnancy! An adorable, miracle baby girl! And the two of us take the truth to our graves."

"But," T'Pol stammered. "That cannot be ethical."

"Oh, hell no! We are way past ethical. 'Ethical' sputtered and died on a Petri dish in your laboratory. Forget ethical, this is damage control. Specifically, damage control for everybody except you."

T'Pol shook her head. "No. My actions were...I did not intend for this to happen, but I need to face the consequences..."

"Why?" Alice interrupted. "Look, I don't mean to be harsh, but why? So you can feel better? Let's pare this situation back to its bare minimum. We have, apart from you, Trip, and his ever growing collection of children he didn't agree to have. And then, we have your daughter, who you decided to incubate because she resembles her dead sister. In other words...the truth SUCKS! It's radioactive. Flush it out the airlock, along with anything else incriminating. And, after you've done that, walk back in here and tell me you feel sick in the mornings. Then, I'll scan you. Then, we'll both get the shock of our lives! Then, you go break the news to Dad while I drink this whole conversation into oblivion. An option sadly not open to you. You want my advice? That's it. Lie. Lie now. Lie hard. Lie forever."

"And you'll revoke my away-mission clearance?"

Alice sighed. "You couldn't have just told me you didn't want to go to Denobula because dead babies make you sad? I'd have bought that..."

T'Pol sank further into her chair. "I did not think of that."


	4. Chapter 4

He had Hoshi pressed to her window, her legs wrapped around his hips, her head rimmed with stars.

"Wave hello to the cloaked Romulan warbird for me," she purred. "And then, let's give them something to see."

"You think they are interested in writing home about this sort of thing?" Travis murmured, but just barely, as her touch tremored his voice.

Hoshi chuckled and teased. "If they're as wily as they pretend to be, they will. There will be all sorts of very actionable intelligence to gather before I'm finally through with you."

"Something got you wound up, Starbird?" Travis teased back, drawing chevrons on the silky skin of her cold, bare back.

"Playing ambulance to Denobula, for one thing..."

Travis felt a smile pull at his mouth. "Nothing for you to translate, huh?"

"Nothing for any of us to do," Hoshi answered, her tone grating slightly against their mood. "What's the point? They've a whole planet full of doctors, scientists, social workers. What are we going to do?"

Travis sighed as he felt her muscles knot beneath his fingers, and tried to rub the gathering tension away. "This stuff is important, I guess. Lending an ally our full throated support in a time of crisis..."

Blessedly, after a moment, Hoshi did relax into his ministrations. "Full throated support, huh? I hope my throat is supportive? I don't suppose you'd care to tender an opinion?"

* * *

Bracing himself for an argument, Trip made sure not to slow his pace as he strode into the armoury. It had been a long day and if he did not have the embrace of T'Pol to look forward to, he might have blown it off.

Malcolm... didn't look good. Hadn't for a while actually, although the frenetic energy the man gave off had camouflaged it for a while. It was hard for Trip to put his finger on exactly what it was; pallor and thinness, certainly, but not just those things. And it had started when they heard from Shran that the Aenar clones had died.

Despite Trip's best intentions, he had pulled up short, after all. He WAS staring. And it was only a few more seconds before Malcolm lost patience with pretending not to know he was there,

"Commander Tucker, no less," he said, sucking air through his teeth. "You drew the short straw this evening?"

"Malcolm, Alice may be willing to coddle you by playing dinner-lady, but I'm not. If you are hungry, pull your head out of your ass and go to the mess-hall."

Malcolm shrugged. "Why are you here then?"

"Mostly to tell you to pull your head out of your ass. DX317 couplers, Malcolm, really? I thought we'd discussed this?"

"We did," Malcolm replied, finally looking at him, but smiling a little nastily. "You said if I wanted to waste my own damn time on it, I should go ahead."

"Well, I didn't mean it," Trip huffed. "Obviously. It was a figure of speech. And you knew that..."

"So do you want me to take them out or what?"

"...no, but..."

"Then what are we talking about exactly?"

Malcolm's voice had taken on an unpleasant edge and Trip's temper was fraying. Furthermore, he was perfectly aware that all he had to do was lose his temper and he would be free to storm off to the serenity of T'Pol's quarters, to her waiting arms. He took a deep breath, and pondered the debt of friendship, before replying.

"Beats the hell out of me", he said in the most affable tone he could summon. "I could be having a much more pleasant evening with T'Pol."

This did the trick somehow, and the mood shifted ever so slightly. Then a little more.

"Oh?" Malcolm replied at last. "I'd have thought she'd be a little busy preparing. Didn't the captain appoint her Tsar of our response on Denobula?"

"No," Trip replied carefully. From nowhere he remembered a summer camping trip from long ago. A faun and its mother in a clearing. His cautious approach before the inevitable startle and flight. "No, didn't you hear? Her away-mission clearance got pulled, so she had to farm it out to one of her ensigns. Jon's fit to be tied, by the way. I would not want to be Alice right now."

Astonishingly Malcolm chuckled at this. "Now there is a cage match I'd pay to see. T'Pol must be frustrated though, after coming so far, only to have it snatched away again?"

Trip blinked. "Actually, she seemed...aw, I don't know Malcolm. The day I actually understand what's going on in that woman's head..."

"Not knowing is half the fun, isn't it?"

Trip laughed, and it almost hurt. "You have a strange idea of fun, my friend."

And then Malcolm smiled, and that hurt as well. "I suppose I do."

* * *

"So you get it?"

With all honesty, Fabrecia's excited squeak thrilled H.B. Morello's heart more than the actual news had. He wasn't used to having a girlfriend. Especially not one so...Fabrecia.

"Well...we'll see," he replied a little sheepishly. "Presumably both Archer and T'Pol are going to be lobbying pretty hard to get that away-mission status reinstated..."

Fabrecia was pouring pear cider into champagne flutes. The shoulders of her loosely tied robe slid down her arms.

"Wouldn't worry about that. Alice can be pretty stubborn when she thinks she's right..."

"Or Phlox could override her..."

"He can't, actually!" Fabrecia said happily handing him one of the flutes.

H.B. blinked in dismay. "You talked to Alice about this already?"

"No. But the sound-proofing between the ready room and the bridge is not that great, and the captain has a loud voice. So you're fine! Congratulations!"

"Well, I don't know about 'congratulations'," H.B. murmured, his mind half on the weight of his responsibility and half on the way that Fabrecia's lips glistened with cider. "It is a disaster zone, after all."

"Well, you're an epidemiologist," she argued back gently, refilling his glass. "If you're put in charge of a situation it's never going to be kittens and rainbows. That doesn't mean you shouldn't be congratulated when congratulations are due."

"Well, I'm not really in charge, _per se_. Commander T'Pol is. I'm just..."

"The man on the ground?" Fabrecia purred. Irresistibly.

H.B. sighed. "Things always sound so much better when you say them."

* * *

Tending and maintaining their complex social relationships was the primary leisure time activity on Denobula, so communications systems often ran near capacity, even in better times than these. So it was little surprise that, even with the skill and charm of Hoshi Sato on his side, it took Phlox a long time to establish contact with his daughter.

When he at last did, he'd been so delighted that he'd run speedily through all of the details. It took him quite a long time to notice that Palayjah did not seem as pleased as expected by his imminent arrival.

"Mettus is here," she explained at last, worry drawing all the colour from her face that pregnancy might have been expected to add.

"Oh. I see."

"He's my brother," she continued defensively. "There are travel bans. But he could make it."

Phlox carefully smoothed his expression. "You have no need to explain yourself to me, Palayjah. I have not the slightest intention of making trouble in your home. Mettus shall not hear a harsh word from either of us."

"You, or... Elizabeth Cutler, is it?" Palayjah clarified, pronouncing the unfamiliar syllables carefully. "You know how Mettus feels about aliens..."

"He need only be civil," Phlox replied firmly. "He has the capacity for that, although I suppose you'd have to ask Mettus himself if he also has the inclination..."

"All...all right," Palayjah sighed. "We will expect you both in a few days."

"Marvellous!"

* * *

The park in which Sayden sat would normally have been teeming with children, chattering and negotiating endlessly about who was to slide next, who would push who on the swings. But today, like the streets, it was relatively deserted.

He'd picked a bench well back from the water. Whenever he caught sight of his face, multilated to pass for that of a Denobulan, he found himself overcome with an urge to howl.

He wondered whether his contact felt similarly. He was right on time.

"He's coming," Sayden informed the man, without passing pleasantries. "Phlox. My contact has just informed me he will be at his daughter's house in three days. He's coming on _Enterprise_." Sayden's jaw set at the name.

"Good," Sayden's contact smiled.

"I should tell you that we've paid our source with a vaccine. For his sister."

"What does one woman matter to me?" his source replied, smiling pleasantly. "So, I suppose you would like Destera Quarter, where this daughter lives, open until Phlox's arrival? And you will suspend dispersal in that area until after Enterprise's arrival?"

Sayden nodded. "But I'll pour it into the water supply after that, if you want."

His contact lifted an eyebrow arch in amusement. "The usual dispersal method will be adequate. But Destera will be infected before the end of the week?"

"It will."

"And you will take your life after your business with Phlox is concluded?"

Sayden stared into the small inky eyes. "As we've agreed."

"Excellent!" his contact replied, pleased. "Then I will not see you again. I want you to know though, Sayden, that your service to the Empire is appreciated, and the Empire thanks you."

Sayden nodded curtly, certain the man would forget him the moment he turned around. _Empire_ , he snarled to himself. _The 'Thanks of the Empire'! The Empire could die in flames for all he cared. It was always the lesser of two evils._

And now the greater evil was coming.


	5. Chapter 5

Grimly, Archer closed the channel to Denobula. The Deputy Minister for Health made it abundantly clear she had a nearly endless number of better things to do with her time.

Not that Archer could blame her. He couldn't really imagine how he'd have felt about holding the hands of, say, a Tellarite delegation immediately after the Xindi probe. This woman had been teetering on an edge of panic and rage, taking the reins of Bureau of Health after the sudden death of the Minister herself, in childbirth. That morning. And Johnny Archer was nothing more than the call between two more important ones.

There was no time to brood, because no sooner had he rested his hands than his door chimed insistently, and when he saw who it was he dug his fingernails into his forehead so hard he almost broke the skin.

"You can't just waltz in here, Dr Harper," he snapped. "There is a protocol. Whatever is on that PADD you are holding needs to come to me through Dr Phlox, or not at all. You, frankly, are beneath my attention right now."

"Dr Phlox is busy," she said calmly, at some length. "Preoccupied. I'm trying to take certain things off his hands."

This was the moment to double-down, kick her out of the ready room, and report her to Phlox, but he'd bothered enough Denobulans with minutiae today. "Make it quick."

"I will," Alice replied, placing the PADD she was carrying down in front of him. "This won't do."

Archer frowned. "Slightly less quick than that."

"These are the quarantine protocols which Ensign Morello devised. For when Enterprise reaches Denobula."

"What about them?"

"They won't do."

Alice hadn't taken a seat and so Archer had to stand up to look down on her. She was tall, so he only had a few inches. The gesture wasn't lost on her - her expression changed - but it was clear that he'd only confused her rather than commanded any of the missing respect he'd been aiming for.

And he lost his temper.

"Now you listen to me. I may not be able to reverse your decision to rescind T'Pol's away-mission clearance, but don't think that means I don't see what's going on here. I put Morello in charge. Not you. You will not be furthering your career on the back of this particular disaster. I won't allow it."

Archer might have expected Alice to lose her temper, or at least fall back into a rigid 'at attention' posture, but naturally this woman did nothing of the kind.

"Oh!" She blinked incredulously. "Is that what you think? You think I want to be in charge of the response on Denobula?"

"Don't you?"

"No! Not really. It's a mess. And an obstetrical mess, at that. Wrong end for me. I'm more into brains. Now if it were a cerebral disorder of some kind, then sure. Well, maybe? I don't think I'd go to that sort of length. Unless, you know..."

"Then why are you here?" Archer snapped, not really believing her.

"The quarantine procedures. They..."

"Won't do. You said. Ensign Morello presumably disagrees."

Alice smiled uneasily. "H.B. doesn't have all the information. We have a pregnant crew member, and..."

"Pregnant? Who?" Archer asked, not bothering to keep his skepticism out of his voice.

"Oh, I can't tell you."

"Because you just made this pregnancy up?"

"No... Because...confidentiality."

Archer narrowed his eyes. "Well, in that case, I can't help you."

"But...I insist?"

"Get out of my ready room, Alice."

* * *

"Commander Tucker, can I talk to you?"

"Darlin' you need to start calling me Trip."

Engineering was quieter than usual, and no one was in ear shot. Nevertheless, T'Pol didn't look pleased. And damn it if she didn't look fucking adorable when she wasn't pleased.

"We are working, Commander Tucker," she sniffed, so archly that it HAD to be on purpose.

He swore if she stuck that adorable little nose of hers any further up in the air he was going to melt. "And did you want to talk about work?" He knew she didn't. If it had been about work, she would have spat it out by now.

"No," she admitted.

He wasn't busy. Not really. But he opted to tease. "And, is it urgent?"

"It is important, yes," she replied carefully. "But not in any sense urgent."

"Perhaps it should wait till I'm off shift then," he answered softly, leaning in for a kiss.

A gesture T'Pol missed entirely. "You are correct, Commander. We can discuss this matter at a later date." Then, to Trip's horror, she turned on her heels and marched out of sickbay.

Trip started after her, but he'd forgotten that his safety harness was still tethered to the gangway. Fortunately, Rostov was the discrete sort and was unlikely to spread word of the resulting prat-fall too far.

Less fortunately, by the time he'd extricated himself from the harness, T'Pol was gone. Instead, he encountered Alice.

"Trip! There you are! I need help..."

"It's not a great time, Alice," Trip replied looking past her for a sign of T'Pol.

"...I need help with the quarantine arrangements for Denobula," Alice continued anyway.

"I don't know anything about quarantine," Trip replied. "Apart from being under it a few times. I don't think that..."

"I need you to help me get the Captain agree to increased quarantine," Alice persisted, as Trip tried to squeeze past her. "Because of Commander T'Pol? Her... situation?"

Trip finally gave up on catching T'Pol, but was still in little mood to listen to Alice. "Alice, I'm busy and not following you. T'Pol's not going to Denobula, right? You weren't happy with her legs? What's she, and more importantly, I, got to do with quarantine, then?"

Alice blinked. "Because of her...situation with... You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?"

"Bingo. With you, I rarely do."

Alice's answering expression was unnerving. "You people are all trying to kill me," she hissed. "Never mind!"

Baffled, Trip watched the second woman in two minutes stalk away from him. He met Rostov's eyes. "Do you reckon it's something in the water?"

Rostov shrugged. "Hope not, sir. I hate fixing the reclaimators."

* * *

A lifetime of training had made Malcolm Reed acutely aware of the sound of opening doors, so he couldn't have failed to notice this one if he tried.

He waited and was rewarded. Trip's voice floated up the access tube. "Looks like your food's getting cold."

Trip did not sound like he was willing to be put off.

Aware his recent behaviour had been...concerning, Malcolm reluctantly downed his tools, and maneuvered out of the access tube with as much dignity as such an action allowed. "It can't be that cold," he muttered. "She only left it ten minutes ago."

Trip raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Alice, you mean? Really, Malcolm! How long are you going to let this go on?"

"She'll give up on her own, soon enough. She called me a 'suppurating pile of marmoset scrota', today. And said she'd only picked a plate at random. And, that she hoped I'd starve."

Trip chuckled. "Well, there's no denying she's in a mood today. But that's lasagna, and there was no lasagna today. So, she didn't pick that at random, she must have got that specially made for you somehow."

"Blasted woman is under the impression I like lasagna," Malcolm muttered, although he stuck his fork into the offending pasta under Trip's insistent glare.

"You could do worse, you know," Trip replied, relaxing his posture somewhat now Malcolm was actually eating. "At least the insults would never be boring."

Malcolm sighed. "Except..."

"Except what?" Trip asked. "Except...Hoshi? This again? Malcolm, you are not in love with Hoshi. You are...and I hate to say this...you are in love with DRAMA."

Malcolm almost choked on the forkful of lasanga. "Honestly, Trip, we should harness your projection abilities and build a shell generator. I'M in love with drama?" Malcolm replied. "You know, Travis is still offering odds on Kaaitama turning up here with a suspiciously blonde toddler in tow."

Trip raised an eyebrow in an unintentionally hilarious impression of T'Pol. "And do _you_ have money on that particular eventuality?"

Malcolm chuckled. "I have money against it, actually. I mean, you're stupid and everything, but not _that_ stupid."

"I think what you meant to say is - You're stupid and everything, _sir_ "

"Of course. Where are my manners?"

* * *

Hoshi stood naked in the darkness, listening to the soft whistle of Travis's ever so slightly deviated septum, while she stared out at the stars.

Her future was laid out before her.

Which was good.

Unless...

* * *

His hands, his fingertips tickle her skin. The candle light flatters him; he is golden and ever so slightly pink.

Pink from his red blood. Red. So exotic, so beautiful. A man, an alien. Her man. Who even bleeds beautifully.

"Darlin," he murmurs, sleep drawing around him even now. "What was it you wanted to say earlier? I'm sorry I was...I was only teasing, you know? I'm never too busy for you."

She smiles. "You do important work. There must be times when you are too busy for me."

"I ain't that important," he answers gently.

The ornamental grammar tells her that this is a joke. His fingers dance over her pelvis, in blissful ignorance of what lay within.

"It can wait," she says.


	6. Chapter 6

Jonathan Archer had never seen Denobula before. He supposed he'd always expected the planet itself to somehow look cheerful. It didn't. It spun grimly beneath them.

"How's it looking down there, Hoshi?"

Hoshi listened for a few minutes longer before answering him. "I'm picking up multiple news channels sir. Some of them are reporting civil unrest. Violent protests. Looting, even."

Archer grimaced. "Looting Denobulans?"

Hoshi shrugged helplessly. "Nothing near either of the landing sites, at least."

"All right, Hoshi. Get me a channel with the Denobulan Authorities and then with the Earth and Vulcan Embassies. In that order. There's no Andorian or Tellarite presence on Denobula, is there?"

"Not currently, sir, no. I'll put the calls through to your ready room."

"Thanks Lieutenant," Archer nodded, and then turned to T'Pol. "Commander, please ensure that you have working uplinks to all of Morello's equipment - I want your eyes on this. Then you can tell Commander Tucker to launch."

Even out of the corner of his eye, Archer saw T'Pol pale.

"Commander Tucker?"

"Well, I had to send someone senior, T'Pol, and since our borderline mutinous junior medical officer pulled your clearance, I went with the next best thing. Frankly, I assumed you..."

Archer broke off and stared in astonishment at his first officer darting from the bridge without so much as logging off her console. He took two steps to follow her when...

"I have the Prime Minister for you, Captain," Hoshi broke in, almost apologetically.

Archer's eyes around looking for the nearest superfluous officer and landed on Lieutenant Reed. "I'll take the call in my ready-room, Hoshi. Malcolm," he continued lowering his voice, "Would you go find out what that was about?"

Reed replied with the slow cypher of a nod which he saved for such occasions and walked quickly from the bridge,while Archer stalked to his ready room, steeling himself for another polite conversation with a Denobulan who clearly just wanted him to go away.

* * *

Not sure whether she was heading to the launch-bay, the staging area, or Engineering, T'Pol nevertheless found herself running through the ship. Perhaps some strange instinct guided her feet, because she encountered Trip faster than she should have by chance, hearing his raised voice before she saw him.

"What the hell is it about this situation that has you so unhinged, Alice?"

"Would you just trust me, and send someone else, for Pete's sake?" his equally animated interlocutor replied, just as T'Pol rounded the corner. "I wouldn't be making such a turnip of myself if it wasn't important, would I?"

"Trip, you mustn't go to Denobula!" The words fell out of T'Pol's mouth even as she skittered to a halt between them.

Trip gawped at her. "You too? What in the blue blazes is going on around here?"

"The Captain is quite curious about that as well," broke in Malcolm Reed, from behind T'Pol. "As am I, for that matter."

Uncomfortably aware that all eyes were upon her, T'Pol composed herself and addressed her lover directly. "I am happy to explain. Privately. An explanation is well past due. But you cannot go down to Denobula. Please."

Trip's eyes softened. "I...think I _have_ to go. Someone has to..."

"I can go, if you like," Malcolm interrupted again, peering at them with a shrewdness that made T'Pol uncomfortable. "I might be a better choice, anyway. For one thing, Hoshi did say something about riots, and for another, I'm sure Trip remembers what happened with Feezel that time. So, shall I? If it's all right with you ladies, that is..."

While T'Pol nodded graciously, it was clear that Alice was not quite so pleased with this development. She did however, assent, adding "Don't forget your toothbrush, though. 'Cause there's no way I'll be letting you lot just wander back onto the ship, incubating all-sorts. Expect a _long_ quarantine stay."

In reply, Malcolm smiled nastily. "There's no time to fetch my toothbrush, I'm afraid. I will just have to gamble that my tooth enamel will hold out longer than the Captain's patience for your biosecurity concerns."

"A gamble you will lose, my friend," Alice shot back, departing.

Trip had been shifting impatiently all throughout the preceding banter. After Malcolm, also, strode away muttering, he all but bailed T'Pol up against a wall.

"So. We're all alone. _Now_ will you explain yourself? Please?"

T'Pol's stomach twisted unpleasantly. "You did not mention this morning that you had been assigned to the away-team."

"I didn't know I had to, T'Pol! You aren't my keeper, are you? Now what is this about, damn it?"

"It is not the sort of thing one blurts out in a hallway," T'Pol snapped back.

This was unpleasant.

This was not the moment.

"Unbelievable!" Trip hissed, before he too departed, leaving T'Pol distressingly close to tears.

* * *

This mission was a big moment for H.B. and the anxiety was interacting unpleasantly with his gut. It did not help that his girlfriend was piloting the shuttle, nor that there was an armed and surly MACO sitting behind him, nor that Commander Tucker had been replaced at the last minute by the considerably less amiable Lieutenant Reed.

"What does H.B. stand for?" Reed had asked by way of conversation after they dropped Phlox and Cutler off at a suburban - at least by Denobulan standards- area before proceeding to the capital. As they had taken off H.B. had caught a glimpse of the Denobulan doctor talking to a tall, decidedly uncomfortable-looking young man, while Cutler had stared off into the middle distance. Now, there was little to do but watch the horizon for the approaching spires of the capital, and ignore the worrying pillars of smoke stretching into the amber sky.

"Hubert, sir."

"And the 'B'?" Reed replied in a tone of limited patience.

"It's just Hubert, sir. I...don't have a middle name. And I didn't like Bert - or Bertie- so..."

"Right..."

"You'd understand about unfortunate names, wouldn't you, sir?" Fabrecia piped up, an edge in her voice.

H.B.'s liver all but collapsed into his pelvis, but amazingly Reed responded with good humour - "Well, ensign, we can't all have names that sound like brands of fabric softener, can we?" - and Fabrecia executed a sharp maneuver all but designed to aggravate Reed's motion sickness.

When they righted again, Reed turned back to H.B. more genially. "Are you ready, Ensign? This is going to be your show. I'm here purely for ass-covering purposes. And possibly to help spring you from quarantine before you reach your dotage."

"I'm ready, sir," H.B. answered with some actual buoying confidence, a feeling that lasted right through the rest of the trip...

and the landing...

...right up until he was faced with the delegation of approaching Denobulans.

Then, he remembered his landing permit.

"I've forgotten the landing permit! I left it in the shuttle!" he blurted in undignified horror.

Fabrecia's eyes widened but she didn't move, and the MACO- Cole, or something- only grunted.

"I suppose I'll get it, shall I?" Reed said overly-brightly, after a moment and he walked back toward the shuttle, shaking his head.

"Dr Morello?" the lead Denobulan asked, just then stepping forward.

"Yes," H.B. replied. "Sorry about the landing permit. Lieutenant Reed has just gone to get it. I've never been to Denobula before. You have a beautiful home." _Just like his mother had taught him_ , he thought a little crazily.

"Oh, I'm not really Denobulan," the man replied, conversationally.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm Valakian," he continued, showing his teeth. "And this is for my people."

Then the world exploded, and H.B. ended.


	7. Chapter 7

**Content note: this chapter and subsequent chapters contain references to bombings and their aftermath, injuries, and death.**

* * *

Liz watched the shuttle leave with considerable disquiet. She had been excited about the prospect of visiting Denobula for years. Denobula _during the apocalypse_ on the other hand...

And then, there was Mettus. Denobulans were not predisposed to contact, but even taking that into account, the stiff reunion happening before her tore at her heart.

"Father."

"Mettus."

"I received your letter."

"That was years ago. You never replied."

"You never tried again."

"This is Elizabeth. My friend. She is a human. From Earth."

"I can see that."

"It's nice to meet you, Mettus," Liz broke in, thinking it her most likely opportunity. "Your father speaks of you with great affection."

Mettus stared at her. "Does he?"

Liz smiled uncomfortably. "Sure."

A silence followed.

"Your sister did not come?" Phlox asked eventually. "Is she all right?"

Mettus frowned. "The pregnant are mostly staying off the streets. There are reports that they are being hassled by religious fanatics. Attacked, even."

Phlox stopped short, startled. "Why?"

"There are all sorts of rumors saying around," Mettus replied, tight-lipped, and neglected to elaborate further.

Phlox exhaled in distress. "This is Denobula. There are _ALWAYS_ all sorts of rumors flying around."

Mettus shook his head, and wrinkled his nose in something like a sneer. "This is the END of Denobula, father. This is how we die."

* * *

"Sir, it's our ambassador to Denobula, He says it's urgent."

Hoshi's apologetic interruption crackled over the loud speaker, interrupting the call to the Vulcan ambassador to Denobula, who raised her eyebrows imperiously.

"Twenty minutes ago they were too busy to talk to us," Archer snapped back over the conn. "I have the Vulcan Ambassador..."

"I know, sir," Hoshi's voice replied, slightly sheepishly. "But he is INSISTING it is urgent."

"It sounds like you should perhaps take his call," Ambassador T'Gil remarked pointedly. "Our own conversation would be more accurately characterised as 'perfunctory' than as 'urgent'."

"My apologies, Ambassador."

T'Gil tilted her head slightly. "Please. Our embassy is at your disposal, whenever you should find time for us."

Archer grimaced a smile in return. "Thank you Ambassador. Archer out."

A moment later, Hoshi patched the call through.

"Your excellency," Archer began, before instantly regretting his tone.

The man he was talking to, however, was clearly too distressed to notice. "The rising rate of these 'perinatal complications' is general knowledge," the ambassador began without preamble. "What is less well known, are the falling rates of early pregnancy."

Archer frowned. "It was known to us. What..."

"It was thought at first that this was a statistical blip, or a response to perinatal death in the extended family. Denobulans do have large, complicated families, you know."

"I do know. What..."

"But it was recently leaked to us by a friend in the Denobulan government that the cause of the falling pregnancy rate is biological. An autoimmune disease that causes the hosts own immune system to attack both ovarian follicles and endometrium. Possibly caused by the same agent which is causing the perinatal deaths."

"So, you're saying...?"

"The population of Denobula is being rendered infertile. And there is more. We've had our relevant staff tested, human staff, and they are infected as well. All twelve women. This thing affected humans as well."

A chill ran through Archer's spine, seemingly slightly ahead of the realisation of what the ambassador's words meant. _This is it..._ "So, you're saying...?"

"What I'm saying, Captain Archer, is if this is a biological weapon, if this is the Romulan Star Empire, whoever they are, they can kill the human race without firing a single shot."

"Captain, I'm sorry but..." Hoshi's voice again.

"Not now Hoshi!" Archer snapped without fully intending to,

It was T'Pol's voice that continued Hoshi's. T'Pol's voice rarely wavered, but it was wavering now. "Captain, you ARE urgently needed on the bridge. There has been an explosion in the immediate vicinity of the shuttle-pod."

Yet another sharp pain in his gut almost caused Archer to lose his lunch. "Ambassador, I'm sorry, but I have to..."

Looking equally stunned, the Ambassador nodded. "Of course, I'll find out what I..."

The screen cut out before he'd finished, and Archer dashed to the bridge.

* * *

Liz found herself ushered along strangely quiet streets. There was street graffiti, written in staccato Denobulan script. Liz hadn't seen graffiti in years, and had not expected it here. Judging by Phlox's expression, it was not _supposed_ to be there.

The walk was long enough that she found herself tired, and a little parched, by the time they reached the end of it, although neither Mettus nor Phlox seemed troubled by the distance.

Denobulans, at least in this area, lived in what Liz could best describe as huge sprawling apartment buildings, with a series of interconnected suites, the movement of spouses through which was governed by a complicated set of social mores completely opaque to outsiders. In the past, Liz understood, it was the women who occupied permanent accommodations and the men who traversed through them, but now this was changing, and was subsequently even _more_ complicated.

She was introduced to no fewer than forty extended family members on the trip through the building to Palayjah's rooms. Forty Denobulan faces that she had little hope of distinguishing later, let alone connecting to their names and relationship to Phlox. And yet, certainly, every one of them now knew her.

At last, they arrived at their destination, and Liz was immediately introduced to Palayjah - a pleasant-faced, obviously pregnant woman, with sad, brown eyes. Liz averted her gaze to the father and daughter reunion - awkwardly standoffish by human standards, although clearly heartfelt and affectionate; within seconds Palayjah was in tears and Phlox not far from them. Mettus, too, Liz saw was averting his eyes, and there was something unpleasant in his expression.

"I'm so glad you could come," Palayjah said, tears still falling, in Denobulan "I've been terrified."

"I am here now," Phlox replied, soothingly.

The exchange had something of a ritual rhythm to it, and Liz suspected something might have been lost in translation. Still, Denobulan was a well-known language, and her handheld translator was as accurate as it was likely to get.

"You will be staying in my rooms," Palayjah said then, directing her voice to include Liz as well as her father.

"I hope I won't be intruding," Liz replied nervously. Her anxiety peaked even higher when Palayjah responded with a confused frown.

"A human custom" Phlox clarified quickly. "Homes and hospitality are understood differently."

"Ahh," Palayjah nodded, her smile returning. "Your presence is both welcomed and expected in my rooms?"

Although Liz found herself slightly discomforted by thisreply, she nevertheless smiled warmly. Mettus seemed unpleasantly amused by the exchange, and Liz decided she didn't much like him.

A silent meal followed next, again with a slightly ritualised atmosphere that left Liz more uncomfortable than refreshed, although the food itself was surprisingly pleasant. Beetles, yes, but pretty iridescent ones With an internal fluid that tasted rather of vanilla cake, and a blue liquid which was a pleasing mixture of sweet, sour and bitter.

"You are an exobiologist, then?" Palayjah asked at the meal's conclusion. "An entomologist?"

"Yes, that's right." Liz nodded. "And you, you are a doctor as well, yes?"

"Yes. I'm a hepatoenterologist."

"Did you know Palayjah," Phlox broke in, without quite managing to swallow the final, entire beetle in his mouth before doing so. "Did you know that in humans an additional organ called the 'Pancreas' fulfils some of the roles of the Denobulan liver and ALSO some of the roles of our glycosidic gland?"

"Fascinating!"

"Isn't it?"

Liz took the opportunity to very discretely dislodge a beetle leg from between her teeth. When she'd managed it, she noticed, with no small irritation, that Mettus had been watching her closely.

Palayjah then withdrew, rather abruptly it seemed to Liz, to obtain an additional course for the meal. Pleasingly, Mettus also withdrew, and Liz found herself alone with Phlox for a moment.

"You are doing splendidly, Elizabeth," he smiled encouragingly, but he was clearly troubled.

"What's wrong?"

Phlox cleared his throat unhappily. "Did you see the writing on the outside of the buildings?"

"I _saw_ it, yes. We were walking a little fast for me to use the translator on it. What did it...?"

"It's perhaps for the best that you did not read it, Elizabeth. I find myself troubled. I worry that I should not have brought you here. In times of crisis, even good people become...insular. They turn their efforts towards protecting their own, even as those circles shrink..."

"I'll be all right," Liz replied, in what she hoped was a reassuring voice, not entirely sure she understood what Phlox was saying. "I can handle a little... Well, I'm sure you found worse on Earth after the Xindi attack, anyway. And you were always there for us, regardless."

Phlox smiled, and took her hands in his own.

Unfortunately, Palayjah and Mettus almost immediately ruined the moment by returning, Mettus's eyes shifting immediately to their joined hands.

Liz's irritation faded almost immediately, however, when she caught sight of Palayjah's expression.

"I'm so sorry," Palayjah stammered, looking straight into Liz's eyes. "My cousin, Parrin, called. From the city. There's been...I'm so sorry... Explosions. At your embassy. At the shuttle dock. Parrin thinks...it looks like they're all dead."


	8. Chapter 8

It was a strange thought that the last thing another human being might experience was you, blowing them off mid-conversation. And yet, it was a thought Archer was facing when, even as he stepped onto the bridge, T'Pol announced a second blast had destroyed the embassy he had just been speaking to.

"Casualties?" he asked in a hushed voice, unsure whether he was referring to the first or second explosion, or both at once.

"Unknown, sir," Hoshi replied, her voice tinged with anger. "We can't raise the away team. Or the embassy. The Denobulans are overwhelmed and are refusing to talk to us."

"Keep trying," Archer answered somewhat helplessly. "And get in touch with Dr Phlox and Crewman Cutler. Make sure they know what has happened and that they take precautions with their safety."

Hoshi nodded. "Should I tell them to prepare to evacuate to Enterprise, sir?"

The 'yes' had all but formed on Archer's lips when he recalled the conversation he had been having with the ambassador. If it got to Earth...

"I don't think we can evacuate them. Or anyone." he blurted out. "We've got a quarantine problem."

"Quarantine?!" Hoshi blurted, visibly taken aback. "But..."

Archer cut her off with a curt shake of his head. "Get on to Phlox and Cutler and tell them to stand by. And keep trying the Denobulans. And somebody get Dr Harper up here."

"Sir, the Vulcan Embassy is..."

"Take a message! No wait! Patch it through to my ready room."

When he did reach his ready room, Archer all but collapsed into his chair.

The news reached engineering quickly, sending Trip to the bridge in even less time than that.

It was a simple enough segment of information, and yet he couldn't quite fit it all in his head at the same time. So, running, not jogging, towards the bridge, he focused on the one edge of it that said he had to talk to T'Pol.

"T'Pol I have to talk to you. Now." He knew he was red-faced, although more from emotion than the effort of the journey. He knew he had spoken curtly. Too loud. He knew she outranked him. He didn't care.

"Commander Tucker, I am currently..."

"NOW!"

Even amidst the already frenetic atmosphere of the bridge, this shout, this command, was enough to draw attention.

Trip ignored Hoshi's shocked expression. And Travis's. He stared at T'Pol until she abruptly stood and walked off the bridge. Unsure whether she had intended him to follow her, he did anyway.

And sure enough, she turned to face him after a short distance. "What do you need, th'y'la?" she asked softly.

Trip refused to be distracted by the unfamiliar word, by her soft, sad eyes, by her beauty. "I need you to tell me what the hell is going on, T'Pol."

"I don't..."

"You pulled me off that mission in a panic. You REFUSED to say why. And now they've been caught in an explosion?"

T'Pol paled before him. "The two things are not connected," she whispered unhappily.

"That's not good enough, T'Pol! Malcolm is down there... Amanda...What the hell is going on?"

She met his eyes then, and he was shocked into silence to see hers were shimmering. Then, she answered him.

"I'm pregnant."

* * *

"But, what did he say _exactly_? Try to remember..." Alice pressed, chewing her bottom lip, and making only halfhearted eye contact.

Archer was almost out of patience. "I don't KNOW, Alice. Follicular something? 'Ecto' something? Immuno... Or was it 'Endo' something?"

"That's not terribly helpful," Alice replied distractedly. "Don't you have some sort of pathology report listing what they found?"

"The fucking embassy BLEW UP, Alice," Archer roared, his temper exhausted. "Presumably, the report along with it!"

"I did mean something he might have sent BEFORE the embassy blew up," Alice replied tiredly. "I wasn't proposing you get it by Ouija board. " 'Ovarian follicles', perhaps? 'Endometrium'?"

Archer sank back into his chair. "Possibly."

"Did he mention anything about a causative agent?"

"I don't think so. Just that humans were also affected."

"That's not good," Alice mused after a moment.

Archer rolled his eyes "Oh, do you think? What astonishing fucking insight! We're so glad you are here."

"Is busting my chops making you feel better?" Alice replied, tilting her head slightly. "Because if it is, by all means, continue. But if the goal is to upset me, you'd best up your game. I've done graveyard shifts in emergency departments. It will take some creative swearing to rattle me."

Archer sighed and slumped even further into his chair. "Sorry. I shouldn't...What do you think, though, can we safely recall Phlox and Cutler, in your opinion?"

Alice shook her head. "Don't think so, no. That region hasn't been declared affected yet by the Denobulans, but it's a huge chance to take, based on that. Believe me or not, there really is a pregnant crewmember. And if it causes infertility, too? And if it's contagious? If it spreads to Earth? Well, humanity may be doomed regardless, but I'd rather not help, if you take my meaning."

Archer nodded resignedly. "At least we can trust the Denobulans to look after our people. If anyone survived, that is."

"Actually, I'm not sure we can?"

"You're kidding, right?" Archer frowned. "It's a Coalition worl! Hell, it's Denobula! You really think they'd be xenophobic enough to..."

"Ordinarily, no. Of course not. They'd treat our people as their own. But, captain, you have to remember what's happening down there. Twelve billion people correspond to hundreds of thousands of births per day. And now, more and more of those births are constituting a major emergency. And the rest a potential emergency. And there are riots, civil unrest. The medical system will be overwhelmed. Under those circumstances, a doctor faced with a critically injured alien might well put a haemorrhaging new mother first. Especially if said mother is their second wife's cousin's first husband's niece, or something."

"Maybe Phlox can go to the Capital and..."

"The capital is classified as an affected region and Destara Province, where Phlox's daughter lives, is still listed as unaffected. If Phlox or Cutler travel to the Capital, they won't be allowed to go back."

Archer shook his head resignedly. "And for all we know, everyone is dead, anyway. We can't even raise the Denobulans on the comm. Hoshi's still trying but..."

"I know people. Or rather, I know people who know people. Doctors, nurses, technicians. I'm sure Phlox is trying as well, but I may as well see what I can find out."

"All right, Alice," Archer answered tiredly. "So, can you tell me who is pregnant yet?"

"Nope, sorry."

"Cause if I find out later, there isn't anybody. Or that it's you..."

Alice smiled weakly in reply, as she stood to leave "It's NOT me. And that's all you're getting. And don't forget to rest, and to eat. You aren't a young man anymore."

Archer pretended to bristle. "I'm in excellent shape. I played water polo, you know. Have you even heard of water polo?"

Alice scoffed. "Of course I have. It was invented in Scotland you know."

"No, it wasn't. You're thinking of golf."

"No. I'm not."


	9. Chapter 9

Sayden overlooked the site of the former embassy, shed a single tear for his departed comrade and then turned his back. There were so few of them left now, that no news of a Valakian death could leave him unmoved.

Salvation, at least according to their new Romulan benefactors, was lost to them.

 _Oh if only we had found you in time!_ those benefactors sighed, shedding crocodile tears.

Salvation was lost, but there was time yet for vengeance. The last of the Valakians would take the Denobulans with them. And the Romulans would have Earth.

 _Oh, it is scarcely out of our way!_ the benefactors smiled

Sayden hated them.

Sayden had to admit their effectiveness.

Denobula, that chatty, bustling little paradise, was falling silent and grim.

But it fell now to Sayden wield the most personal sword.

 _Phlox_.

Phlox The Plague Enabler, they'd called him as they'd jostled and tournamented. Phlox The Unhealer. As they competed for the right to bring Valakian wrath to bear.

And Sayden had won.

 _He_ would kill Phlox.

Travelling out of a restricted zone would not be easy. It would require risk and cunning,

But he would prevail.

"For my people", he murmured. "For those fallen, and for those who still stand and witness the end. For all of us."

* * *

"Pregnant?"

"Yes."

"To me?"

Wounded pride and anger impelled T'Pol to answer, "yes" - but she had no wish to discuss this further. Her heart rent and tore.

"Pregnant? Why didn't you...?"

"It is of no consequence," T'Pol snapped. "We are clearly unsuitable co-parents. Moments ago you accused me of knowingly sending the away team into danger, sparing only you. If you think so little of me, we should not have a child together."

Trip was wide-eyed, but beyond that his expression was opaque to her. "T'Pol, wait," he said more softly. "Slow down and give me a chance to..."

"No," T'Pol interrupted. "It is your instincts which concern me Commander, and I would do myself no service by giving you time to conceal them."

"T'Pol...!"

"No. I informed you only to allay your suspicion of my treachery. Beyond this, this matter will not concern you, and we shall not discuss it further. I suggest you return to your post, Commander."

T'Pol left him then, mind reeling, and stumbled to her quarters. Meditation was impossible, her thoughts were to numerous, and all flew at her at once, like a swarm of winged predators.

After unknown, fruitless minutes, she stumbled to sickbay.

Where her advent was barely acknowledged by a harried Alice Harper, who was rapidly typing missives and running them through a Denobulan translator

"I no longer wish to be pregnant," T'Pol announced loudly, shocking herself with the waver in her voice.

"I very much doubt that's a well considered position," Alice replied distractedly. "Also, I'm busy. Just breathe into a paper bag for a few minutes." Affronted, T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "That has not been a recommended treatment for several hundred years."

"I know," Alice replied. "I was hoping it would make you pass out for a few minutes."

T'Pol clicked her tongue in an irritated gesture she had scarcely used since childhood. "This pregnancy was ill-advised..."

"True," Alice snorted.

"...and I no longer wish to continue it..."

"False. T'Pol, when did you last sleep? Properly, I mean..."

"...Commander Tucker and I are not destined to be together..."

"Even falser. And good lord, your blood pressure!"

"...he does not love me."

"And we've hit Peak Falsehood," Alice replied finally leaving her seat. "T'Pol, due respect, shut up for a minute and breathe. I'm going to give you a sedative."

T'Pol drew backwards. "Will it harm the embryo?"

"The embryo you don't want?"

"WILL IT?"

"NO. SIT DOWN!" Alice snapped, her clipped reply soon followed by the hiss of a hypospray, and an immediate loosening of T'Pol's chest. "Now, tell me what happened. No, let me guess. You told him, and it didn't go perfectly, and then you immediately freaked out and ran away, without talking about it properly."

"Vulcans do not 'freak out'," T'Pol replied stiffly. "The Commander's response indicated that he would not be a suitable parent and..."

"Utter nonsense. He'd be wonderful, and you know it. Whatever is going on here, it isn't that."

The sedative was greying the edges of T'Pol's consciousness, so she helped herself to a bio-bed. Then words began to fall like tears. "The away team may be dead. He was nearly on that away team. I could have lost him today. And he thought I knew of the danger. That I asked him to stay, so _others_ would die. He thinks I'm a traitor."

Alice, or an Alice shaped blur as she appeared to T'Pol, sighed. "Well, I'll say one thing for you two. You work together beautifully to create absolute clusterfucks. Imagine if you could use that power for good."

"I DO want my baby," T'Pol replied, now on the edge of sleep.

"I know."

"Please don't let her die, as well"

"T'Pol..."

"Please..." And sleep came.

* * *

"Hoshi."

"Hmm..."

Travis stepped into her field of view. "Hoshi, take a break."

Hoshi exhaled loudly and threw down her earpiece with some force. "I can't take a break, Travis. I must have called every official in the Denobulan capital a dozen times and..."

"...So they know you want to talk to them and they'll talk to us when they can," Travis replied in a frustratingly calm voice, while reaching for Hoshi's hand. "Calling them all a thirteenth time isn't going to make any difference."

"We have people down there," Hoshi shouted in reply finding herself on her feet. "I need to find out what is happening at the shuttle port and if..."

"AND contact Phlox. You have also been trying to contact Phlox. Right?"

Hoshi hissed through her teeth in frustration. She did not need this sort of petty interruption. She had work to do. "Of course I have, Travis. I know how to do my job."

"Oh, of course," Travis said, stepping away, his voice taking on something of a strange edge. An edge Hoshi did not have time to analyse. "No question."

Hoshi retrieved her ear piece and turned her attention back to the comm panel. "I'll see you later."

If there was an answer, she didn't hear it.

* * *

"But I don't understand," Liz interrupted. "Why can't we get through?"

Palayjah shrugged, while unconsciously wringing her hands. "Two bombs have gone off in the capital. EVERYBODY has family there. The 'waves are just filled to capacity."

Mettus snorted. "Or that's what the government wants us to think. Seems to me they have a vested interest in keeping the 'waves filled to capacity right now."

"Oh, that's just paranoid nonsense, Mettus," Palayjah replied tensely. "You are upsetting our guest."

Mettus laughed aloud at that "Is she a guest, or is she a step-mother? It's so hard to tell with aliens these days..."

"That's enough, Mettus," Phlox interrupted, although with less rancor than Liz might have secretly hoped. "The people who were on that shuttlepod are our friends. I've known some of them for years."

"Let's have some tea," Palayjah interjected firmly, before Mettus could reply with anything more than a sneer. "Help me in the kitchen, Mettus?"

When they'd gone, Phlox directed Liz to a padded sofa-like structure built into the wall, and urged her to sit. She did so heavily and the force seemed to knock tears into her eyes.

"I'm just so worried, I feel so helpless," she whispered.

"I know, Elizabeth," Phlox answered softly. "I feel similarly."

"Can't we go to the Capital?" Liz asked hopefully, looking into Phlox's eyes. "Find out for ourselves if everyone is okay?"

Phlox held her gaze for a moment, but then turned away and lowered his head. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. They are my friends too. Malcolm in particular is a dear friend. But, I have given years of my life to Enterprise and her crew. My family needs me now. My people. I'm needed here."

"I could go then! I'll travel to the Capital and..."

"If you cross into a restricted zone you will not be allowed to return to me Elizabeth, perhaps for months. The thought of you here alone is...unbearable." Even as Phlox spoke, he reached out, in a rare tender gesture, and brushed a loose strand of hair away from Liz's face.

Across the room, bearing a tea tray, Mettus cleared his throat. "So, I take it, it's 'step-mother' then?"


	10. Chapter 10

Trip stalked into sickbay, coffee in hand, and with very little patience remaining. A deficit for which he could easily forgive himself, given the day he was having.

"Alice, I don't know which of your electronic beaker stirrers is broken this time, but I am the CHIEF engineer and you can't..."

He broke off mid-sentence at the sight of T'Pol unconscious on a bio-bed, reeling from a sudden shock of adrenaline.

"She's fine," Alice said coolly from her work station. "Although, she walked in here in quite a flap- I think you should know. You broke this particular 'beaker-stirrer' yourself, Commander, and I do expect you to fix it yourself."

Trip collapsed into the nearest chair, coming embarrassingly close to missing it entirely, and landing rather uncomfortably on the edge of it. "She's okay though?"

"Yes"

"...and the..."

"Also fine."

Trip exhaled heavily, feeling his racing heart beginning to slow, the deceleration both welcome and uncomfortable. "You knew, didn't you, Alice? How about a little heads up, next time?"

Alice chucked wearily as she typed. "NEXT time? Saints preserve us! Look, Trip, just... Fix it, okay? Tell her that she was 100% right, and you are 100% donkey-bollocks, and fix it. Take one for the team, a'right? I'll even throw in a bottle of whisky, given you'll so clearly need it..."

"But..."

"Personal favour to me, given you know you're going to do it in the end, anyway. There is a serious lack of people 'in the know' here, and I really can't right now."

Trip sighed. "Got something better to do, I suppose?"

"I do in fact..." Alice replied still typing. "I am currently text-flirting with a decidedly slimy Denobulan lab-technician called Fluret."

"Why in the name of...?"

Alice finally looked up, and there was evident discomfort in her eyes. "Because he works at Hezgatga Hospital and I have heard a rumor that there are three humans in the morgue there. And one in the ICU..."

Trip's stomach dropped. "From the embassy?" he asked hopefully.

Alice shook her head. "Neither this particular rumor monger, nor the egregious Fluret, seem to know either way. But, several _other_ people have told me that the embassy site is still sealed off, that no one has been pulled out of the rubble yet. Between that and the fact there are four... Anyway, I'm trying to convince Fluret to sneak into the morgue and get me DNA samples. Or at least photos."

"Three dead?" Trip sighed. Until that moment he'd been holding out hope that it was still somehow going to be okay. "I thought Hoshi was talking to the Denobulans?"

"She is. Probably," Alice replied vaguely, blinking at her computer. "Only she gets to talk politely with officials, whereas I'm stuck flirting with...a guy who _literally_ just sent me porn. Bleck."

"Holy shit, look at that," Trip replied weakly, staring at the incredibly disturbing attachment. He considered himself a man of the world and all, but...some things could _not_ be unseen. "Why don't you let me take over flirting with Fluret for a while, Ally?" he offered, somewhat heroically, he thought. "I am a much better flirter than you, after all."

Alice raised her eyebrows. "Aye, right? And what's your evidence for that, Commander?"

Trip glanced at T'Pol with a small smile and took a long sip of his cooling coffee. "Well for one thing, the person _I_ mooned over tragically is pregnant with my kid. Meanwhile, the person _YOU_ moon over tragically swears at you when you bring him lasagna..."

Alice narrowed her eyes. "Fine. I take your point. Very well. _YOU_ whore yourself out to Fluret, and _I'LL_ drink the coffee."

Feeling very tired now, Trip sat down in front of the terminal, and began impersonating Alice in a frankly terrifying conversation with the sleazy technician. "And he's sent me... No wait, it's more porn. Terrifying Denobulan porn, that again I can't unsee. Alice, you couldn't blind me, real quick, could ya?"

"Sorry, I'm on my coffee break."

"Holy shit! You're actually drinking my coffee, you madwoman. Is that even hygienic?"

Alice took another long swig. "I'll risk it."

"Your funeral," Trip chuckled, before the computer beeped again and his mouth went dry. "Okay this is it, he sent photos. Three."

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

"Come on then," Alice said briskly, opening her eyes. "First one."

It was Fabrecia Boschmann, although only half of her head was recognisable. Alice let out a strangled sob. Trip had forgotten they were close.

Next was H.B. Morello, his face shredded, but still just recognisable.

One more. "It's going to be Malcolm or Amanda," Trip said sickly, not even caring that his hand was shaking.

"You and Amanda Cole were an item, at one stage, weren't you?" Alice asked softly.

"Not really," Trip replied softly. "It was...complicated. Ready?"

"Not really."

They had their answer a moment later. Trip felt a sickening combination of relief and pain.

"It COULD be a woman from the embassy," Alice said at length. "The face isn't really..."

Trip shook his head. "See that scar along her collarbone? And the mole on her...it's her."

"I'm sorry, Trip."

"It's okay," Trip replied, his breath catching a little. Because it wasn't okay at all.

* * *

The line was bad, but hard won. Hoshi could only make out about every third word which Liz said, and she assumed Liz was in a similar position, but they had both repeated themselves many times and Hoshi was pretty sure Liz had got her gist. Now she just needed to get her off the line so she could get on with things.

"Just stand by, Liz", Hoshi repeated loudly following a mostly incomprehensible transmission about Phlox's children and graffiti. Then, slightly reluctantly, she hung up and made a mental note to apologize to Liz later.

She was on the cusp of beginning another round of calls to Denobulan officials when Trip stepped onto the bridge looking grim. "I have something," he said, and judging by his tone it was nothing good.

Chest tight, Hoshi joined the senior officers around the convergence table.

"Has anyone seen T'Pol?" Archer asked quickly before Trip could begin.

"In sickbay."

"Why?"

Trip cleared his throat. "Because she's the one who's pregnant."

Hoshi's own exclamation of surprise was drowned out by the Captain's.

"You kept that pretty quiet," Archer replied, clearly displeased. "You could have told me."

Trip frowned. "Until an hour ago I was as in the dark as you are. But we aren't here to talk about that. I have bad news." And he loaded three photos.

Hoshi stared. Three dead crew members. One of them Travis's ex-girlfriend.

But not Malcolm.

Beside her, Archer's shoulder's sagged. "Damn," he whispered. "Malcolm?"

"We think he's in the ICU at a place called Hezgatga Hospital..."

Hoshi blinked. "We, who is we?"

"...Alice is trying to find out more now," Trip finished.

"Alice?" Hoshi demanded. "What is _SHE_ doing talking to Denobulans?"

"Medical back-channels, Hoshi," Trip replied quickly.

Hoshi, however, refused to be so easily dismissed. "She isn't trained for that sort of thing. This is a delicate situation. We can't just have everyone and their dog causing chaos by..."

"Not now, Hoshi," Archer interrupted impatiently. "Surely the priority right now is finding out if Malcolm is alright..."

"He isn't." Alice had arrived on the bridge unobserved. "I've managed a brief conversation with the Head of Surgery at Hezgatga. Along with a series of serious but slightly less pressing injuries, Lieutenant Reed has a subdural hemorrhage - a brain bleed- which requires surgery."

"So why hasn't he had it?" Travis asked on behalf of the room.

"Well, it's been scheduled four times already and postponed each time," Alice answered. "The hospital - all the hospitals- are overwhelmed. Not enough staff, no enough operating theatres, and a continuous flow of emergencies. The problem is that every time his surgery gets bumped, the bleed gets a little worse and the required surgery more time consuming and more complicated. And therefore, less likely to be done."

"But they won't just let him die," Travis replied incredulously. "They're Denobulans."

"That's certainly not their intention," Alice answered unhappily. "But I think that's what's going to happen anyway, without anyone really _wanting_ it to, or _deciding_ that's what should happen. I worked in response hospitals after the Xindi attack. And that's how it went sometimes. Cracks opened, people fell through."

Archer shook his head. "But surely Phlox can do something? Or Cutler?"

"Phlox can't get there," Hoshi answered. "Not without perhaps never seeing his family again."

"And we can't bring Malcolm up here without putting ourselves into quarantine," Travis put in. "And perhaps never seeing _our own_ families again."

"And without sacrificing the fertility of every woman on board," Archer continued, visibly distressed. "And T'Pol's baby."

Alice nodded. "As much as I don't want you to be, I think you are right. We don't even know what the contagion is yet. How it spreads. There's no way to know that our quarantine facilities would be sufficient to protect the crew."

Archer looked around the table. "So what do we do? Travis?"

Travis frowned unhappily. "I hate to say it sir, but we have to put Earth first. Even if the crew were willing to sacrifice their ever being with their families again, in order to save Malcolm, there is going to be a war and Enterprise is crucial to Earth's defense. If we can't rotate staff, get specialist repairs done..."

"... It could cost us the war," Archer finished bleakly. "Hoshi?"

Hoshi found herself barely able to speak, no less so, because Travis was watching her very closely. "I don't know, sir...I always pictured myself with children. Going back to my family one day. My students. And who knows how many species this thing can infect? We could be pariahs everywhere..."

"Trip?"

It took Trip a long time to speak, and when he did, his voice was thick with emotion. "I can't lose another child, Jon. Not like this. Not to fanatics. Murderers. I love Malcolm like a brother, you _know_ I do. But, I just _can't_."

Archer looked at each of them in turn. Hoshi made sure to hold his gaze, to avoid Travis's. And to avoid tears.

"There has to be some other way."

"There is," Alice interjected. "It's not ideal, at all, but... There are two Vulcan cruisers within two days of here. Each with a well-staffed medical department. I'm sure either will lend you a doctor for a while."

Archer frowned. "I don't understand what you are saying, Alice."

"I'm saying I resign," Alice replied calmly. "And that I'm transporting down to Denobula."


	11. Chapter 11

The restaurant was almost empty. This did not surprise Sayden much, as it was now the middle of the afternoon, the streets were quiet, and this place had nothing to recommend it apart from its clear view of the edge of the quarantine zone.

Even moving through the city in this direction had made Sayden more conspicuous than he would have liked. He had drawn several sets of eyeballs, which was probably fine, but one could never tell with these Denobulans - their endless curiosity, their millions of relatives, their _endless_ capacity for gossip.

But he'd made it unmolested and was now mere meters from the border. There were guards with friendly smiles doing the talking, guards with large rifle-like arms doing the frowning, and a string of discrete sensors doing the watching.

Sayden watched it all, over the rim of a mug filled with a brackish beverage which turned his stomach. Two hours after midnight he decided. Succeed or die.

"Be careful with that," he said sharply, when his pock-marked waiter, bringing the moss-covered pastry Sayden had reluctantly ordered, accidentally kicked the backpack containing several pounds of high explosives.

It wasn't ARMED of course- it was the principle of the thing.

* * *

Hoshi held her breath.

No one was saying anything.

Then Trip did. "Don't be ridiculous, Alice. You aren't going to Denobula."

"Am I not?"

Alice's voice was eerily calm, and she's spoken as though Trip had pronounced a law of physics she had never heard of, rather than forbidden her to do something.

"No, you're not," Trip continued, and he sounded angry now.

He WAS angry, Hoshi realised. He was furious at being in this position, of being cast in this role. There was fear in his rage, and grief, and the full force of it all was directed straight at Alice.

"You are NOT going down there. We already have three people dead down there. And three more trapped."

Alice held his gaze. "Phlox isn't TRAPPED, he's HOME. Liz went with him because she loved him. The only person trapped down there is the person you aren't letting me help."

"You're our responsibility..."

"I'm a grown woman, and I believe I've resigned."

Alice's calm seemed only to be making Trip angrier. Next to Hoshi, Archer was watching the two of them, eerily silent. And Travis was watching Hoshi herself.

Although clearly annoyed he was getting no verbal support from Archer, Trip pressed on. "Alice you have a responsibility for the health of this crew..."

Alice closed her eyes for a moment. "Everyone is healthy. You can reach medical help in a matter of days."

"T'Pol is..."

"T'Pol is pregnant, not sick, Trip, she's going to be fine," Alice said softly, reaching for Trip's hand.

"He's never going to love you, Alice," Trip snapped back, pulling his hand away. "Never. Do you understand that? Because, before you throw your future away, you need to understand that."

Alice took a deep breath before answering. "Yes, I know. But I'm going anyway."

Trip shook his head. "No you aren't! Jon, help me here!"

There was a long pause, maybe twenty seconds, before Archer spoke. "Alice, I'm ordering you not to go down to Denobula. Do you intend to follow that order?"

Alice peered thoughtfully at the captain.

Just say yes! Hoshi screamed internally, but Alice did not.

"No, Captain. I do not intend to comply with that order."

Archer nodded before continuing carefully. "Well, in that case, Dr Harper, I need to order you to report to the brig. Hoshi, will you escort her, please?"

Hoshi jumped. "Me, sir?"

"Yes please, Hoshi," Archer replied still watching Alice carefully.

"Um, all right?" Hoshi replied, utterly baffled, then turned hesitantly to Alice. "Shall we?"

Alice nodded, although Hoshi could have sworn it was directed to Archer rather than Hoshi herself, and then followed Hoshi off the bridge.

They walked through the corridor in silence for a few minutes before Alice stopped dead.

"Alice?" Hoshi asked. "Are you okay?"

Alice frowned. "Yes, Hoshi, I'm alright, I'm just not sure how to... I don't actually want to pull a weapon on you, or hit you or anything, but you should probably say I did, right?"

Hoshi gaped at her. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, would you find it helpful? I'm leaning more towards the 'let's not, and say I did' end of things, but you are the one who is going to have to sell it...What works better for you?"

Hoshi shook her head, not understanding.

Alice sighed, an edge of impatience creeping into her demeanor. "I don't want to rush you, Hoshi, but time is brain cells here. You follow me? So, behold the imaginary laser scalpel I have pointed at your throat, and let's go..."

"Alice, what are you...?"

"Something about this conversation is making me really look forward to getting got pulled apart atom by atom. Come _on_ , Hoshi! You catch up on the way." With that, Alice strode off down the corridor.

In the wrong direction.

Towards the transporter.

Hoshi paused for a moment, head spinning, but then she made a decision.

She followed.

By the time she had caught up, Alice was already in the transporter panel poking unhappily at the controls. "I always swore I'd never use this thing," she muttered to herself. "Wish I'd taken lessons now..."

"Let me," Hoshi said, her mouth dry. "I've used it before."

"A'right, thanks," Alice replied gratefully, handing Hoshi a small tool. "You can use that to make whatever bruises you think you'll need to be convincing. It's all set up and it won't hurt, just point and click. I won't leave you a laser scalpel, because I'd probably take that with me, wouldn't I?"

Hoshi took the proffered tool and studied it carefully, while Alice retrieved a large medical case from the corner of the room. "Stashed it here on my way to the bridge," she explained sheepishly. "Had a feeling."

Hoshi nodded. She found herself wanting badly to say something, but utterly unable to do so. She wasn't quite sure what it was. "Let's do this then," she said instead. "Time is brain cells, right?"

Alice nodded, and positioned herself on the pad. "Tell T'Pol good luck with the baby," she said softly. "And tell the others, I'm sorry."

Hoshi answered with a curt nod of her own, the transporters controls at the ready. "Alice?"

"Yes?"

"Save him..."

"Yes."

* * *

Shaken, and feeling a confusing mixture or righteousness and remorse, Trip stepped into the quiet of sick bay.

T'Pol was still asleep, but she woke with a brush of his fingers on her cheek.

The strange connection between them burst to life.

She smiles, sweetly, and he can't help but return it.

"Hey there, darlin'"

"Th'y'la" she whispers sleepily.

"I'm sorry about before. Real sorry. You know that, right? I never thought you were involved in that explosion. I just... I was just upset. I'm sorry."

T'Pol pauses for a moment, but then nodded and took his hand. "And I'm also sorry. I... handled things... _inelegantly_. Is there news of the away team?"

Trip looks away. "There is. It's... well, it's bad."

T'Pol's brow creases, and Trip's hand moves to sweep the creases away.

"Sleep though, darlin'," he coos. "I don't want you worrying about that right now. I just wanted to check on you, because Alice...well, Alice has been detained."

"I'm the first officer," T'Pol grumbles sleepily, her eyes already rolling back in her head. "You should not patronise me."

Trip smiles. "I'll make it up to you."

She is then asleep.

Trip knew he was needed back in engineering, but made himself the deal of changing into a new shirt first.

On his way back to his quarters, he allowed himself the ghost of a smile. The shock, the grief, the worry, but in the midst of it all, a miracle. A tiny seed of a new life.

He splashed water on his face, changed his shirt, and was about to head back to engineering when a glint of light caught his eye. A bottle of twelve-year-old Scotch whisky lay on his bed.

Trip frowned at it for a moment and then stepped out the door.


	12. Chapter 12

Under the relative cover of nightfall, Sayden finished his preparations for tonight's run.

His backpack was quite a bit lighter, of course, but that was only _part_ of the plan. The other part was the document he had spent the afternoon carefully composing, over more cups of heinous brackish tea.

The trick would be getting the timing right...

A glance at his chronometer told him it was time for another shot. Continuing to feign bored attention in his news-sheet, for the benefit of his wall-eyed server, Sayden reached one hand beneath the table and jabbed himself sharply in the thigh with a hypodermic.

After a few seconds, the predictable sensation kicked in, his heart seizing up for a few agonising seconds and then beginning to pound strongly and quickly.

How Sayden hated it.

But if these Denobulan Devils didn't sleep, then neither would he.

* * *

Not quite half way to Engineering, Trip's occasionally explosive, but never long-lived temper receded, and in its place slowly bloomed a creeping sense of guilt about his behaviour on the bridge.

 _This day just won't quit, will it?_ he muttered to himself at the realisation he probably owed Alice an apology. Still, there was no point letting things fester. With a long sigh, he changed direction, pausing only the curse the existence of terrorists and the ill-fated timing of whatever deity determined Vulcan fertility.

A few minutes later, he happened upon Hoshi, standing in the middle of a corridor, staring into the middle distance.

"Hey, Hosh," Trip called, looking around for her 'prisoner'. "Where's Alice? She talk you onto letting her get one last cup of coffee before you threw her in the hole?"

Hoshi blinked at him, then cleared her throat.

* * *

A quick self-inventory suggested to Alice that the transporter had indeed reassembled her adequately. The street she had arrived in was reasonably quiet. Yet her arrival had been noticed, and the looks she was getting from the Denobulans in the street - overwhelmingly male Denobulans- was decidedly unfriendly.

"Hello," she said stupidly, to nobody in particular, before quickly retrieving a map and universal translator from her case. To her relief, Hoshi had input transporter coordinates quite close to her destination. Alice plotted her route quickly.

 _Don't think. Just keep moving_ , she told herself firmly.

She started to walk purposefully, as if she had every right to be there, and after a few steps most of the watching Denobulans lost interest. However, as she passed one of them, the man sneered and shouted a word in Denobulan. Alice smiled uncertainly and glanced at the translator screen:

/*\\\

 _Language: Denobulan Dialect: 127-alpha Definition: invective or disparagement; typically levelled at members of minority ethnic groups, or aliens; especially women. Click for further etymological information._

/*\\\

Alice quickened her pace, but she was not followed.

Once she arrived at the hospital, Alice found it surprisingly easy to talk her way past the triage nurse and hospital security. Since the emergency had started there had been a steady stream of strange doctors arriving and leaving for casual shifts. Consequently, apart from a few minutes lost to bureaucracy while her IME number was checked, Alice's presence raised unexpectedly few eyebrows.

After locating and translating a floor plan of the hospital mounted to a wall, Alice fought an urge to go straight to the ICU and instead tracked down the hospital's Head of Surgery, a small, harried Denobulan man with a kind face, currently scrubbing between two emergency births.

"Well, I'm glad you are here," the man said, while decontaminating his finger nails. "We can't get enough surgeons. But I'm still not sure how we can help your friend. The theatres, the nurses, _everything_ is overwhelmed."

"I brought my own drugs and instruments," Alice replied calmly. "All I need is a scrub nurse, an anesthetist, and any relatively clean room. A procedure room? The morgue? A large stairwell landing, even...?"

"And afterwards, you'll he available to help?"

Alice nodded fervently. "Afterwards, I'm all yours."

The man paused, then nodded agreement. "I can give you two med students and a skills lab."

"I'll take it."

* * *

Palayjah's rooms were filling up with people arriving to see Phlox, including, most uncomfortably for Liz, two of Phlox's wives, Resba and Chenteel. At the sight of them, Liz stowed her universal translator, ostensibly to practice her conversational Denobulan, but actually to give her a plausible reason to appear as standoffish and awkward as she truly felt.

To Liz's tremendous relief however, the two women were lovely, greeting her as if she was an old friend and inquiring after the health of relatives Liz had half-forgotten she even had. After a little bit of time Palayjah joined them, with the air of one rescuing Liz from an interrogation, and the conversation turned to domestic worries. Liz followed along as best she could, and all three women took pains to include her, but it was not long until her attention began to falter.

Palayjah's rooms had no beds, as there were seldom more than a few people in any one building hibernating at any one time.

 _Where am I going to sleep?_ Liz wondered.

She was on the point of asking when she became suddenly aware that someone was standing behind her. Whipping around, she saw Mettus, peering down his nose at her.

"You have a message," he announced. "From something called a 'Hoshi Sato'"

"Hoshi is my friend," Liz replied a little coldly. "What does it say?"

Mettus shrugged. "I can't read your _eeshdenda_ script."

Palayjah hissed quietly through her teeth and Chenteel cleared her throat reprovingly, but Mettus merely tossed a data display into Liz's lap.

/*\\\

From: Sato, H. To: Phlox; Cutler, E.

Morello, H. - deceased, KIA Boschmann, F. - deceased, KIA Cole, A. - deceased, KIA

Reed, M. - Injured, critical - Denobula Harper, A - AWOL- Denobula

Denobula under quarantine from all Coalition worlds.

END.

/*\\\

Liz rose to her feet and shouted for Phlox.

* * *

"Just gave you the slip, did she?" Travis asked sharply, the moment Hoshi stepped into his room.

"Travis, could you just...not?" Hoshi replied, sinking onto the bed. It wasn't so much that the captain's questioning had been grueling, it had been almost startlingly perfunctory. But, it had been a long and bitter day.

In the end, there had been no laser scalpels in the story Hoshi had told, no generated injuries on her body. Although she appreciated that there was no point throwing two careers away instead of one, she had simply not found herself willing to Alice Harper as a dangerous criminal.

So she'd simply said that Alice had given her the slip and had managed to transport down before Hoshi could raise the alarm. The only problem was that this story would not survive a casual inspection of the transporter logs, which would clearly show Hoshi operating the transporter.

It was a mess, definitely. But regretting her actions? That was a non-starter.

"These are my quarters, and I'll say what I like in them, " Travis replied, or rather, _seethed_.

Slowly, Hoshi pulled herself back to a sitting position. "I can leave if you like, Travis."

Travis smiled coldly. "Are you sure? You don't have quite so many options about where to go now, do you?"

"Stop it, Travis," Hoshi growled.

"I won't. You risked your career, and therefore, OUR LIVES TOGETHER. WIthout even _talking_ to me first. For _HIM_."

Hoshi narrowed her eyes. "That's enough."

"More than enough, I'd say," Travis answered, before standing up, and walking out the door.

* * *

At twenty minutes to midnight, Sayden sent his carefully crafted document to every major news-wave service in the Denobulan Capital.

He'd manufactured the evidence within it, but it also happened to be perfectly true: That the contagion that was killing mothers and late-term foetuses also caused widespread infertility. _And_ that the Denobulan government was suppressing this information from the Denobulan public.

Twenty minutes felt like long enough to make the broadcasts, but not long enough for any widespread government intervention.

Then he waited.

"Do you mind?" the server asked, just before midnight, while indicating the news-wave receiver.

"Not at all," Sayden replied with a broad smile. "In fact, I'd quite like to watch."

And sure enough, there it was. Top story.

The first would-be refugees arrived at the border about thirty minutes later. Over the next hour or so, a crowd began to accumulate. Denied exit, many of the children were escorted back home, but the adults remained, forming an impromptu protest demonstration.

By now the border guards would be calling for reinforcements, Sayden thought. But all the official services were overtaxed by the health emergency and those reinforcements would not be here quickly.

Just before two hours past midnight, Sayden got up from his table and strolled behind the counter where the server was watching a televised account of the protest happening right outside his door.

"Can't come back here, friend," the server replied absently.

"Duck," Sayden replied, still smiling, and bent down behind the counter.

A second later the street full of protesters were engulfed in fire, and a large shard of glass was embedded in the server's throat.

As the man gaped his final breaths, he stared at Sayden with horror.

"Well, I did tell you to duck," Sayden reproached. "Although I suppose I said it in Valakian didn't I?"

With that, Sayden stepped out into the carnage, and disappeared over the border, and into the night.


	13. Chapter 13

After making calls to the families - it was a strange stroke of black luck that all three dead crew members had been from just two adjacent time zones- Archer was too wound up to sleep.

He rolled over fitfully, tipping a reproachful Porthos onto the floor.

Two of the three had been only children, as well. Archer especially hated calls like that.

There was no point calling the Reeds yet. For a start it was the middle of the night in Malaysia.

And he had nothing to tell them.

And he kind of hated them.

It was no good. Sleep wasn't happening. With a sigh, he sat up, and pulled his boots back on, and went back up to the bridge, almost crashing into T'Pol after rubbing his eyes at the wrong moment.

"T'Pol! Are you all right?!"

She tilted her head curiously. "Yes. We did not actually collide. "

Archer shook his head. "That's not what I...hey, should you be carrying that?"

"It is a standard maintenance case," T'Pol replied incredulously. "It weighs 4kg."

"Well, sure. But in your condition..."

T'Pol's lips thinned. "Captain, my 'condition' is none of your concern and will not affect my performance of my duties, INCLUDING the carriage of insignificant weights and... You are just messing with me, aren't you?"

Archer smiled brightly. "That's your punishment for not telling me earlier. Congratulations."

"Hmmm" T'Pol replied nonchalantly, but a small smile ghosted her lips.

"Jonathan is an excellent name, you know..." Archer continued.

T'Pol frowned. "On Vulcan, Jn'a'thaan means a 'steaming pile of Selat excrement', Captain."

Archer blinked. "Really?"

T'Pol raised her eyebrows and moved away without answering.

Archer then turned to the communications station, his amused smile freezing when he saw Baird was manning it. Steeling himself, he approached regardless.

"Crewman Baird, is there any news from her?"

Baird blinked. "From who?"

"From Dr Harper," Archer replied, lowering his voice.

Braid furrowed his brow in confusion. "ALICE Harper?"

"Yes," Archer replied, after inwardly counting to five. "Dr Alice Harper. Red-hair, Scottish, sewed your thumb back on that time? That Dr Harper."

"Oh! No sir! She's AWOL," Baird answered helpfully, turning his attention back to his console.

Archer pressed his lips together. "I know she's AWOL. But has she sent any news?"

Baird's puzzled expression returned. "Why would she send news if she's AWOL? We did detect another explosion near the edge of the Capital city...?"

"Near the Hospital?" Archer asked, alarmed.

"What hospital?"

"Baird! For the love of..." Archer praised for a deep breath, then continued. "Alice Harper, of the red hair of and the thumb surgery, went AWOL in order to give brain surgery to Lieutenant Reed. Our Lieutenant Reed. The English one who sits over there. Has Dr Harper sent any news about how that surgery went?"

Enlightenment dawned. "Oh! Right, I see, sir. No sir."

Archer's shoulders sagged. "That's probably not good, is it?"

"Why, sir?"

Blue Ocean, Archer thought to himself. Soft waves. "Because, Crewman, if it was good news we might have expected to have heard by now. That we haven't suggests the surgery might have gone badly, yes?"

"No, sir. It went fine, sir. We got a message saying that surgery went well."

Archer's eyes widened. Golden Cornfield, he thought. Cool rainforest. "Then, why didn't you tell me that?"

"Because you didn't ask, sir. You only asked about messages from Dr Harper. This message was from Crewman Cutler. But it says that that Dr Harper contacted her to say the surgery went well. So I don't think it's probably a bad sign we haven't heard from Dr Harper."

Archer massaged the bridge of his nose. "How old are you, Baird?"

"21, sir."

"So you were 17 when you joined Enterprise, were you?"

Baird beamed back at Archer, unsuspectingly "Yes, sir! I'm a prodigy, sir."

"That's nice," Archer replied, still smiling tightly. "You aren't, by any chance, related to someone high up at Star Fleet, are you, Baird?"

"No, sir. Well, except for Admiral Gardiner. He's my uncle sir."

Archer nodded. "Yep, that seems about right."

* * *

When Liz had found herself perturbed in the extreme by the communal sleeping units for Palayjah's building, her host had located a quiet storage room, and sufficient soft furnishings to fashion a passable bed.

It was all in vain, of course.

"How am I supposed to sleep?" she asked the darkness. "I'm stranded on a planet and probably infected with a genocidal virus."

"It could be a bacteria..."

It was Phlox, not the darkness who answered her. She hadn't heard him come in. Perhaps she had slept briefly after all.

"...or a Protozoa, a parasite, even a contagious cell line, I suppose," he continued. "Those are rare, but we already suspect this pathogen can affect the immune system so, who knows?"

Liz sat up and struggled to make out his form in the darkness. "Are you alright?"

"No, my dear. I do not think I could rightly say that I am. There is widespread panic out there, since the news waves announced the infertility aspects of this plague. People are fleeing their homes, others are taking to the streets and being met by armed militia. Street preachers are decrying this as the end of days. Pundits are blaming the Coalition, and aliens generally, and every scrap of social progress made in the last hundred years. I am home, but I do not recognise it, and that is worse than being away could ever be. And I'm so sorry, Elizabeth, for bringing you here."

Liz found him in the darkness. "Well, I'm NOT sorry."

She felt rather than really saw Phlox's head shake heavily. "You do not need to lie to spare me guilt."

"I'm not," Liz insisted. "I'm glad I can be here for you. That I can help, maybe. I'm sure things will seem brighter soon. Optimism, right? Isn't that what you always say?"

"Optimism," Phlox mused. "Perhaps I shall say that no longer."

* * *

Waking up had been a _very bad idea_.

It had been a very bad idea last time as well.

THAT time he had woken up in a ruined shuttle craft, absolutely EVERYTHING had hurt like hell, and, he had learned - after an incredibly difficult and incredibly painful crawl to the shuttle hatch - absolutely everyone else was dead.

THIS time, absolutely everything STILL hurt like hell, although in that strange numb way that suggested he was on some sort of pain-killer. And he was definitely going to vomit repeatedly in the next minute or two - which was sure to make absolutely everything hurt _worse_. And there were two very young Denobulans staring down at him.

Then things got worse. They started talking.

"Hello! I'm Vax and this is Messop. We're medical students! We did your brain surgery!"

 _Waking up. Bad idea._

"It was the first time we've ever done brain surgery! It was really exciting! This was HUGE for us. HUGE!"

 _Very bad idea._

"Oh, don't worry. We had help."

 _Slightly better?_

"From Axis," one of the cheerful apparent teenagers chirped.

"I think it's Ellix," suggested the other. "Or Alrox? We don't know. She said it really, really, fast."

"She says a lot of things really, really fast," the first agreed. "But she's a pretty good teacher. She let me drill in your skull!"

"And I got to be in charge of your whole anesthesia! I'm not even out of med school! Oh I should probably ask... Are you in any pain right now? Only don't try to talk, because you probably can't."

Malcolm was really looking forward to vomiting on them in a few minutes time.

"Maybe the translator isn't working? I mean how would we know?"

"Probably best to assume it is," the other answered. "Anyway, I'm sure even if he can't understand us that our voices would be soothing. Right?"

"Good point! You're a great learning partner, by the way, Messop."

"Aww, you too, Vax. I can't wait to tell all my parents about this."

"Me too! Anyway, Malcolm is it? That's a weird name. Malcolm- so don't worry, we are watching you like a hawk, which is some sort of bird, apparently - learning about Earth is so fun..."

" _So_ fun!"

"So we are watching you like a hawk bird, and Alrox left very specific instructions that we should get her _immediately_ if there was any change, so you are in good hands."

"Actually," Messop interjected. "Do you think waking up counts as 'any change'?"

Vax frowned. "I got the sense that she meant any, you know, _bad_ change."

"I'm not sure. Do you think we should? I don't want to make Alrox angry. She said we could help fix his brachial plexus - oh by the way Malcolm, you won't be able to move your right arm right now but we'll probably be able to fix it, so don't worry. I really don't want to miss that surgery. I am so sick of exploding uteruses."

"But if she did mean only bad changes then we might make her angrier and then..."

At this point, blessedly, Malcolm did manage to vomit on them.

There wasn't a great amount in his stomach, and it did hurt A LOT, but it was still worth it.


	14. Chapter 14

When Hoshi woke, she was still alone in Travis's quarters. After treating the indifferent furniture to a theatrical sigh, she spent twenty minutes or so readying herself for duty using her various possessions which had migrated here over the past few months.

When she went to pull on her boots, typically the last thing she did when getting ready, she found a handwritten note tucked inside of one.

/*\\\

 _Hoshi,_

 _There was a message last night that the surgery went well. Thought you should know._

 _-T_

 _/*\\\_

Hoshi must have read the note three or four times, with equal amounts of relief and irritation. Eventually, she decided she needed a coffee.

Fate smiled, because she did not encounter Travis until she reached the bridge, where a certain propriety was assured. Additionally, by then she was properly caffeinated.

"Where did you sleep last night?" she inquired in what she hoped was a casual tone.

Travis's response was at least civil. "I went to Halliwell's poker night thing. It got late and I didn't want to wake you. Trip said I could sleep at his place. Apparently, he wasn't too worried about waking T'Pol."

Hoshi nodded. She wondered if she should thank him for his note, but suspected it would hurt rather than help.

"His quarters are way bigger than mine, by the way," Travis continued amiably. "I think I'll stage a mutiny."

"Well, count me in," Hoshi responded. "I've had my eye on T'Pol's quarters for a while. I don't know if you've noticed, but it always smells really great in there."

Travis smiled. "I don't spend a lot of time in Commander T'Pol's quarters if I'm honest, alas. I'm glad that YOU are though. Really."

Hoshi snickered agreeably, just as Travis moved off to his own station.

Pleased that the interaction had been pleasant, Hoshi settled into her work day, beginning, as she always did, by reviewing the previous shift's communications as logged by Crewman Baird. Right in the middle of the pile was the transmission from Liz Cutler that Travis's note presumably referred to.

It can't hurt to listen, Hoshi thought to herself. Supervising Baird is part of my job after all. I could have chosen this communication to review _completely at random._

Shifting slightly, so Travis was out of her immediate gaze, Hoshi played Liz's message into her earpiece, and soon found herself smiling. Quite apart from the welcome news about Malcolm, Liz also reported the somewhat colourful story about what had happened when Alice had tried to contact Phlox and had initially been answered by his son Mettus. It had been quite the personality clash, apparently.

Chuckling, Hoshi realised that this conversation between Liz and Baird was abnormally chatty, and friendly in tone, given that the two didn't get along. Liz is doing this for my benefit, Hoshi realised suddenly. Her shoulders tightened at the thought.

 _She knew I would listen to this_.

Distracted by the unpleasant connotations of this thought, Hoshi failed to notice that the message had ended and she was listening to static. Realising at last, she was about to switch off, when, right at the edge of the range, she detected a signal.

 _What the hell is that_? She wondered.

* * *

T'Pol settled herself into her lab, barely suppressing what might have been considered a yawn. _It must be the pregnancy,_ she thought. _How inconvenient_! But at the same time a small smile ghosted on her lips.

A great deal of data had been lost when the Terran embassy had exploded, and if there were backups at an external site, they had not yet been located. Still, the Vulcan embassy had been undertaking its own investigations and had willingly been sharing its data, so she had plenty to be getting on with.

To end or at least mitigate the crisis on Denobula - and incidentally recover their crew members- they would need a cure, or at least a vaccine and a treatment. And for that, it would be enormously helpful to have a known causative agent.

Effects have causes, just as causes have effects. All that affects the world may be known to you with sufficient care and patience.

There was an agent then. And T'Pol hoped to find it.

Engrossed, but a moment ago, in pathology reports and microspectral analyses, T'Pol was suddenly distracted my memory. With an amused smile she recalled how, this morning, Commander Tucker had been inexplicably distressed by the thought of her working on this problem.

"You understand, do you not," she had said, "That I will be working on reports only? No actual samples. Surely you do not think that the infective agent is the data itself?"

He had frowned, unsoothed. "I'd hardly put anything past these Romulan bastards."

"There is no evidence the Romulans are involved," she replied. "And besides, it is perfectly safe, I assure you. Your one, _thoroughly inadequate_ biology course notwithstanding, I am the expert here."

He'd then grumbled acquiescence, and ALMOST placed his hand on her lower abdomen. He'd diverted it, awkwardly, unconvincingly at the last moment, to grab hold of some gadget he'd had no cause to want. She had not been fooled.

The sound of a cleared throat jerked her from her from here reverie. Turning she saw Crewman Halliwell. He was watching her in a way she found somehow impertinent. Irrationally annoyed at him for jolting her from her pleasant memory, T'Pol took no care to inject any warmth into her acknowledgement. "Crewman."

Halliwell smiled unpleasantly. "Commander."

"I am occupied with work, Crewman," T'Pol responded, disliking that smile more by the second. "So if you have a purpose, please state it."

Halliwell raised his eyebrows loftily, and T'Pol abruptly wished she had simply banished the man entirely.

"There is an opening for a science officer now that Morello is dead," Halliwell began. "You are going to appointment me, including a field commission to Ensign."

T'Pol narrowed her eyes. "Ensign Morello died yesterday, Crewman. I have given no thought to replacing him yet. It would be vulgar to do so before a memorial. Additionally, his replacement is unlikely to involve a field commission, and even if it were, it is especially unlikely that the replacement would be you. Your work is mediocre at best, and certainly doesn't warrant this sort of confidence."

"And yet, I'm profoundly confident," Halliwell replied. "You are going to give me that field commission. And perhaps more beside, since you were just so rude to me. Because I know what you were getting up to. I know all about your little experiments. And I know Commander Tucker has absolutely no idea that pregnancy started in a test tube. So, about that promotion?"

* * *

"It's a ship," Hoshi declared, triumphantly.

Archer stared closely at the screen and back again. "Yes, I can see it's a ship. It's a Denobulan mining barge, isn't it?"

"I don't think so! In fact, I don't think it's Denobulan at all!"

Archer frowned. "It looks very Denobulan, has a Denobulan transponder, a Denobulan registry number, and it is orbiting Denobula."

"Yes!" Hoshi agreed, readily. "That's just what they want you to think."

"...'they'?"

"The Romulans," Hoshi replied, excitement getting in the way of her composure. "That's a drone ship! This is the evidence we need to prove Romulan involvement in the plague!"

Archer looked up skeptically. "Hoshi, are you sure, though?"

"Pretty much!" Hoshi answered. "Listen to this... There, hear that? Those beeps?"

"Those are Romulan beeps?" Archer tried tentatively.

Hoshi screwed up her nose. "No. They are just beeps. There's no uniquely Romulan way to beep. Well, there sort of is, but it's not relevant here. Or it could be, but probably not. The point is, those beeps are HIDDEN. Hidden in the wake of sub space transmissions. Denobula has one of the most advanced communication networks in the quadrant, and these beeps have been hiding in plain sight the whole time, maybe, and no one has detected them!"

Archer's brow furrowed. "And these beeps are being directed towards that Denobulan junker?"

"No, sir. Well not directly, but if you look at the angle of the transmission in our signals sub-space wake, and if you assume it's bounced twice of the atmosphere, well then it does go towards that ship. The signal would be weak after two bounces, but still detectable! And no one would see it. It's genius!"

"Um... Hoshi?"

"Wait, there's more. As you said, that ship has a Denobulan serial number and transponder. When I looked it up in the registry, that serial number and transponder are registered to the Katafix. A fifty six year old Denobulan junker."

"And that ship isn't called Katafix?" Archer suggested.

"Oh no, sir, it is."

"But the registry is fake?"

"No sir it's real. This will go faster if you stop interrupting sir."

Archer squinted at her uncertainly. "Will it?"

"Yes, just listen," Hoshi insisted. "I contacted the owner of the Katafix, or tried to, and it turns out he died three months ago. I spoke to his niece who said that the Katafix was sold for scrap. But when I contacted the scrap yard they had never heard of the Katafix."

"So," Archer answered slowly. "If I'm following you correctly. Because the Denobulan barge called Katafix wasn't scrapped, it can't be sitting out there in orbit? Unscrapped?"

"I think it was scrapped," Hoshi insisted. "I think the scrap yard is lying, because the Romulans payed them off, and that ship out there isn't the Katafix. It's a drone ship, disguised as the Katafix. Hiding in plain sight."

Archer pursed his lips. "Or it _IS_ the Katafix, and the niece was mistaken about what happened to the ship?"

"But the signal!"

"The signal that, if it bounces twice off the atmosphere goes weakly in the general direction of the Katafix?"

Hoshi sighed in frustration. "Okay, so you aren't convinced. I'll get more proof. In the meantime, can we at least monitor that ship?"

"Hoshi..."

"Please, sir. I know I'm right."

Archer sighed. "Okay. Fine. But get more proof, Hoshi."

* * *

There wasn't, Liz discovered, a terrible lot for her to do.

A steady stream of Denobulans flowed in and out of Palayjah's rooms, but none of them seemed particularly inclined to take her sight-seeing, and there were road blocks between them and anything worth seeing, in any case.

There was a great deal of conversation going on in the room, but absolutely all of it seemed to concern people she had never heard of, despite the fact she had met upwards of two hundred Denobulans in the last 24 hours.

Over and over, she has interjected to ask if - oh, was that the lady who was hear before in the purple dress- and she would be politely told - _oh no, that's such-and such_ \- and the she'd be told every possible family connection _BETWEEN_ such-and-such and who they were actually discussing, and finally the conversation would move on as if she had never spoken at all.

After this had happened about twenty times, Liz gave up entirely and went to sit on the reclining coach with Palayjah and watched the news waves. After yet another tiny meal of bugs, Mettus joined them too, and began almost immediately to complain about the bias of the 'wave they were watching and demanding they 'switch over'.

At length, apparently tired of being pestered by her brother, Palayjah did so.

"Reports are growing," intoned the new 'wave reader, "of Denobulan free citizens being detained against their will on so called 'Coalition' worlds. I have heard increasing speculation that our citizens may be forced into camps- allegedly for their own protection- but without the right to return home if they wish. The government has so far refused to answer my questions about this shocking arrest of our free citizens."

Palayjah and Liz looked at each other.

"See," Mettus announced triumphantly. "Nothing about that on the other 'wave, was there?"

"Because it's not true, Mettus," Palayjah hissed through her teeth. "It's probably just some new immigration requirement that's been blown out of proportion by that pompous fool."

Mettus shook his head sadly at his sister, and Liz wished she was anywhere else.

"I'm sorry about my brother, Elizabeth Cutler," Palayjah said at length, rather pointedly. "He has very strong and very... novel... opinions."

"You can just call me Liz, if you Like," Liz answered awkwardly.

"Can we, 'Liz'?" Mettus asked staring at her intently. And something about the way it sounded in his mouth made Liz wish very much that she could withdraw the offer.


	15. Chapter 15

Having just gone through the motions of _yet another_ courtesy briefing by _yet another_ overworked official on Denobula, Archer leaned back on his chair and closed his eyes. While tedious in the extreme for all concerned, these briefings did have one enormous advantage.

It gave him an excuse for still being here.

It allowed him to hide from the increasingly likely truth that he was about to abandon four of his people - one badly injured - on a rapidly destabilising planet.

And, of course, it allowed Hoshi to continue her frenetic, round-the-clock observation of what was certainly a disused mining barge.

 _Almost_ certainly a disused mining barge.

 _Probably_.

"Oh don't look at me like that," he snapped at his unlucky Beagle, who had chosen that particular moment to look up sleepily. "You don't want Hoshi to be right. If she's right we'll be at war with the Romulans. At war with an enemy we don't understand. That we've never even seen eye to eye. And, there are no puppies allowed on war ships."

Porthos whined plaintively, then turned his face to the wall.

Archer exhaled, feeling like an asshole.

That last briefing had taken a lot out of him. It had been a courtesy briefing with the explosives expert that had been reviewing the shuttle and embassy bombing sites.

There had been a great deal of technical detail in the briefing, which Archer had not remotely understood, and had only served to make Archer keenly feel the absence of his munitions expert.

And most of his freaking medical staff, of course. His current chief medical officer - Andy Anyodele - was a terrified exo-anatomist, who generally required a long pep talk, or at least a hug, from anyone unfortunate enough to go to sickbay seeking treatment. But until the T'Kenara arrived, he was the best they had. _After_ the T'Kenara arrived they would have some dour, Vulcan CMO who would, no doubt, make everybody miss Andy.

And at some point, very soon, Enterprise would have to leave orbit. And Malcolm, Phlox, Liz and Alice would not be coming with them.

He stared grimly at the list of four names displayed innocently on his screen under the officious menu title of 'Crew - onworld'.

'Crew - doomed' felt more like it. 'Crew- abandoned'.

Then the little 'AWOL' tag next to Alice's name drew his eye. Not for the first time in the last day, his finger hovered over it. It would be so easy to change it, maybe add in some bland explanation about a clerical error, and bury the whole thing, like he had buried Hoshi's involvement by tinkering with the transporter logs.

Currently, this AWOL status was something of a diplomatic incident waiting to happen. Once the T'Kenara arrived, they would, as a fellow Coalition member, be automatically informed that there was an AWOL crew member. And being Vulcans, they would follow protocol and inform the Denobulans, probably in triplicate. Then the Denobulans would be placed in the position of either arresting a talented doctor working in the middle of a planetary health crisis, or not arresting her, and breaching their treaty obligations in the middle of a planetary health crisis.

 _And then what might happen to Malcolm?_

 _And how was IME going to react?_

 _And what about that fucking mining barge?_

"Come in!" he snapped, when the door chimed right at the peak of his annoyed thoughts.

Icy cool, as ever, T'Pol glided into the room, and sat down as if Archer had done nothing unusual.

Porthos, perhaps feeling that somebody should, offered a reproachful yawn.

"What can I do for you, T'Pol?" Archer asked, before adding hopefully, "Have you made any progress with your research?"

"Unfortunately not, Captain," T'Pol replied. "I expect my research into the Denobulan situation to take some time. I am here on another matter. I wanted to talk to you about filling the officer vacancy in my department. I wish to promote from within."

Archer frowned. "T'Pol, we haven't even had a memorial yet for Morello and the others."

"I realize that," T'Pol responded, not quite meeting his eyes. "And yet, we are in the midst of an emergency situation. Normal rules of conduct must be suspended. However much we might wish otherwise."

Archer sighed. "I suppose you are right. I mean, I'm not going to tell you how to run your department. So if you want a field commission for Nadia Giurgiu, I'll push it through. Don't sweat the small stuff, right?"

T'Pol frowned in confusion and Archer was on the point of explaining the expression, when her reply left him baffled. "I did not mean Nadia Giurgiu."

"Oh," Archer replied honestly shocked. "I'm sorry, I just assumed, when you said you wanted to promote from within. Crewman Giurgiu's evaluations are always a cut above everyone else's. It didn't occur to me you didn't mean... I still can't think who you did mean, actually."

"I... well," T'Pol stammered. "I meant...I meant Crewman..." she fell into silence.

Slightly alarmed now - The T'Kenara really couldn't get there fast enough - Archer pushed back gently. "T'Pol, is something wrong?"

For a moment, her face held almost as much turmoil as he had ever seen, and given some of the days he had seen her - the deaths of her daughter and her mother, the days of the Expanse, Tolaris - that itself was worrisome in the extreme. After a few seconds, however, her face smoothed into its familiar lines, and her breathing steadied.

"Actually, Captain, I have been premature. I need to give this matter further thought. Do excuse me, Captain." And she stood the, as if to leave.

"I'm never too busy, T'Pol," Archer said softly.

She nodded, but left without saying more.

* * *

Whatever strange social forces had drawn the Denobulan extended family, like the tide, to Palayjah's rooms to visit with the prodigal Phlox, now drew them out again. Within the space of an hour or so, the place was emptied again, apart from Resba, Chenteel, Palayjah, Phlox and Mettus.

Down to a far more manageable number of Denobulans, Liz had just enough time to feel a sense of relief, before Phlox announced that he would now be going out to visit various elderly relatives, too tired or too ornery to travel to Palayjah's rooms.

Even worse, it soon became apparent that Resba and Chenteel planned to be occupied elsewhere in the building, in rooms belonging to another of Resba's daughters, who happened to also be Chenteel's niece (AND Feezel's cousin, and also, somehow or other, Phlox's sister-in-law).

"I need one of those diagrams to keep it all straight," Liz offered weakly at the end of this explanation.

"I'd be happy to get you one," Resba responded, perfectly serious.

The final blow fell but a moment later when it suddenly became clear that Palayjah intended to retreat to her home office for a few hours to review pathology specimens from several of her patients.

All that added up to leaving Liz in company that didn't please her in the slightest.

"Take me with you," she pleaded to the departing Phlox. "I'd love to meet 14 of your great-aunts."

"17," Phlox corrected mildly. "And while I very much appreciate the offer, I will not inflict them upon you. Unfortunately, some of the older generation are not so open minded as the young, and I fear given the current...uncertainty, that they might be particularly disagreeable. It could make for a very unpleasant afternoon for you."

Liz personally thought that an afternoon of geriatric xenophobia seemed less unpleasant than an afternoon in Mettus's company, but this was difficult to say to any of his close relatives, so she miserably held her tongue.

Sure enough, the very moment his father had stepped out the door, Mettus abandoned his 'wave broadcast and came at sat next to Liz on the bench.

 _Right_ next to her.

Not lifting her eyes from the complicated electronic family tree Resba had furnished her with, Liz shifted herself away from Mettus, so far over in fact, that she was mostly held in a sitting position by her own quadriceps rather than the few inches of bench still beneath her.

"I could explain that to you, if you like," Mettus said, closing the distance between them again.

"Got it! Thanks!" Liz replied, wondering if she could squeeze over any further without falling.

After a heavy pause, Mettus continued. "I don't like aliens."

"You don't say?" Liz replied, edgy.

"No. Denobula is for Denobulans and mixing has only every brought us harm. Contaminated what should be pure."

"I suppose your father feels differently," Liz observed as blandly as he could, unthinkingly following a family tree back several centuries while not reading a word.

"I don't know what he sees in you. But I have to admit, spending time with you, it has made me curious..."

And then he touched her cheek.

The situation would have been alarming entirely on its own merits, but Liz had spent most of the last day in a room packed full of Denobulans, who, however busy and crowded things got, never so much as bumped each other accidentally. She had felt no one's skin, apart from Phlox's, since arriving.

This touch shot through her, and profound primal alarm brought her to her feet.

"Changedmymindgoingtomeetyourgreatgreatauntsbye," she muttered in an English he could not have possibly understood and ran out the door.

She had no idea where she was going in the huge, warren like building and could only hope that the vaguely centrifugal design would spit her out at the front door if she kept moving.

At last she happened upon a flight of stairs running adjacent to an exterior wall and she ran down the flights as quickly as she dared. She could not hear anyone following her but could not quite bring herself to slow down in any case. An alarm in her head was demanding she get out - _out_!- and it would not stop until she did so.

Then she saw daylight, the front door, and miraculously, Phlox, silhouetted against it, passing the time of day with an elderly man. As drastically inappropriate to the local culture as the gesture was, she grabbed Phlox's arm as she ran past, and pulled him, as he confusedly farewelled his neighbor, into the street.

* * *

Sayden had been in place since dawn, and his backpack was now empty.

Wiring up the building upon his arrival, he had been plagued by a vague but unyielding sense of uneasiness, and by the time the last brick of explosive was wired in place, the source of that uneasiness had been revealed to him.

It was not enough for Phlox to die. Phlox The Unhealer - he must _suffer_.

And what suffering would be more apt than the loss of his home? The death of his closest family.

For, if Phlox The Damned felt that loss, then he would know Sayden's soul, and when he later died- died looking into Sayden's eyes- then he would know who had killed him.

And so Sayden had waited. Through dawn, through the ingresses and egresses of a hundred or so Denobulans, drifting into and out of the path of fate.

He'd waited for Phlox to emerge.

And there, now, he stood.

His mortal enemy.

Just standing in the street.

Just standing in the street being mildly perplexed by a human woman.

And so Sayden depressed a switch, and the building - and the families within- became smoke and ash before The Unhealer's very eyes.

The vengeance of Valakia had come.


	16. Chapter 16

"Um... Commander?"

Hoshi hated disturbing her, but pressed on anyway, although she did take care not to look at whatever T'Pol was looking through. Whatever it was definitely did not look official.

"How may I assist you, Lieutenant Sato?" T'Pol replied calmly, although, Hoshi couldn't help but notice how T'Pol discretely slid the PADD she had been using out of sight.

"I need your help with something," Hoshi began cautiously.

"I had assumed..."

"It's about this so-called mining barge. I'm certain there is something fishy about it. But I'm having a hard time convincing the captain."

"In that case, convince me."

Mentally crossing her fingers, Hoshi carefully walked T'Pol through the evidence she had called. Registry papers, death certificates, and multiple instances of that bouncing signal.

"I think I see your problem, Lieutenant," T'Pol said thoughtfully after Hoshi had finished. "Any one piece of evidence taken on its own is small and disputable, but taken together, they are something more. Very well. I shall recommend to the captain that we investigate further."

Hoshi exhaled in relief. "Thank you Commander."

"One more thing, Lieutenant Sato. Have you had any luck deciphering what your 'bouncing beeps' might mean?"

Hoshi squirmed slightly. "Not exactly. Some of it looks like planetary coordinates, but the rest of it looks like text."

"And there was no match in the linguistics database?" T'Pol prompted.

"Well there _was_ ," Hoshi answered, reluctant to sow doubt in her new ally. "But the match was a nonsense."

"Presumably it was in code?"

Hoshi shook her head. "No Commander, that's not what I mean. It's not that the words were a nonsense, it's that the language match made no sense."

"Why not?"

"Well...it was Valakian."

* * *

Waking up _this_ time felt like an ever-so-slightly better idea.

Then again, Malcolm considered himself a man who could learn from experience.

Still, it was undeniable that the nausea and headache were very much improved, and he had a light and giddy feeling that suggested a marked improvement in his analgesia regimen.

In a fit of foolish bravery, he opened his eyes in search of Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, or whatever their blasted names were.

Instead he saw... "Oh, _ALROX_!", he rasped, finally grasping what those simpering, idiot med-students had been on about.

Alice smiled. "I appreciate you are probably making fun of my new minions, but it might be best to refrain from making jokes like that until I figure out how squooshed your brain is."

"How squooshed _is_ it?" Malcolm asked, unwisely before considering that she might actually answer him.

"Well, you seem to remember your conversation with Vax and Messop," Alice replied. "So that's a good sign."

"Hard to forget those numpties," Malcolm grumbled in reply. "It wasn't much of a conversation on my end. Just vomit."

"I suspect that got your point across."

"Some of it anyway," Malcolm agreed lightheadedly. "Where _WERE_ you, anyway?"

Alice smiled. "Big hospital, Malcolm. Big planet. It can't be all about you, all the time. I am sorry, though. I _did_ tell them to come and find me..."

"... But they are incredibly full of themselves, impossibly chipper, and have bedside manners which make yours look good." Malcolm snapped, still not quite willing to forgive Alice for his mildly terrifying first awakening.

"Well, look at you," Alice replied mildly. "Snarking with the best of them! We can tick off the old 'sarcasm intact' box, then. I really am a good surgeon, if I do say so myself."

"You do know I can't move my right arm?"

"I haven't quite got around to that yet," Alice admitted sheepishly. "It's just... well, it's _chaos_ out there, Malcolm. Everything - _everyone_ \- is completely overwhelmed. Anything that doesn't need to happen right now, _isn't_ happening."

Malcolm chuckled bleakly. "And I don't suppose I can drag you back to Enterprise, away from all the dying new mothers and tiny babies just to fix my arm, right?"

"We can't go back to Enterprise, right now, Malcolm," Alice responded, her face clouding. "I mean CAN'T. Charismatic, dying babies notwithstanding."

Malcolm tried to focus through the mist of exhaustion gathering already in his brain. "Why not?"

Her answering smile was unconvincing in the extreme. "Let me worry about that, okay?"

Despite the exhaustion, Malcolm might have argued, but before he could, Messop and Vax bounded into the room like a pair of overexcited puppies.

"Oh he's awake again!"

"YAY!"

"Can we do another brain scan? Can we do it ourselves?"

"Because, you've got a patient coming in, Alrox,"

Annoyance crept across Alice's face. "It's ALICE, she enunciated carefully.

"Oh, that's what I said," Vax enunciated equally carefully, causing an intoxicated giggle to very nearly escape Malcolm's throat. "Anyway, Alrox, there's been another explosion. _Outside_ the city limits this time..."

"Scary!" put in Messop.

"...And, they are bringing them here, because the quarantine zoning got broken by that OTHER explosion last night..."

"That HAD to be on purpose," added Messop.

"...And they think you'd be the best doctor for one of the patients, I think?" Vax finished. "And isn't my Earthianese getting great?"

"English," Alice corrected vaguely. "So, I'm not quite following. They want me because it's a neuro case?"

"No," Vax responded casually. "Because it's a human."

A jolt of adrenaline cleared Malcolm's fogging brain, as Alice's face drained of colour.

"Who would that be?" he asked her.

"Liz. It has to be Liz."

* * *

Archer nodded slowly.

"So you think there's something to this as well?" he asked T'Pol, in a tone which clearly suggested that made all the difference.

Hoshi narrowed her eyes in irritation, but held her tongue as T'Pol answered blandly in the affirmative.

"Okay," Archer continued. "So how do we investigate further? I don't need to tell either of you how absolutely crucial it is to be sure. The fate of the Coalition- the balance of power in the quadrant, no less - could very well depend upon what exactly is happening on Denobula."

T'Pol's raised eyebrow did not appear to think much of Archer's dramatics. "I think we transport somebody on board the ship. The data they transmit back will hopefully be sufficient to prove Lieutenant Sato's theory of Romulan involvement. Should, of course, that theory actually prove correct."

Archer nodded again, "That sounds promising..."

"There is of course, a caveat." T'Pol continued. "Whomever we did send, would become subject to Denobulan quarantine, and would not be able to return to Enterprise."

"And you don't want to order any of your people into an indeterminate exile," Archer replied understandingly.

A strange shadow crossed T'Pol's face. "I suppose if, pressed, I could bring myself to nominate a suitable candidate, but in this case it may be better to utilise the crew we already have on Denobula. It would require a modification to the transporter to allow us to complete a transport from the mining vessel to Denobula without fully materialising on Enterprise. A site-to-site transport, if you will. It _is_ theoretically possible."

"Well, Malcolm, of course, would be the perfect person," Archer quipped.

T'Pol either missed, or deliberately ignored his tone. "Lieutenant Reed has just had brain surgery."

"Nobody cared about sending me to the Xindi weapon when _I'D_ just had brain surgery," Hoshi muttered.

"We did care," T'Pol replied calmly. "We simply had no choice. And in this case, I believe the best choice is to send Crewman Cutler and Dr Harper."

Archer suddenly sat up straight. "Alice... T'Pol, is the T'Kenara in orbit yet?"

"They reached Denobula approximately forty minutes ago, Captain," T'Pol replied. "Is something wrong?"

"I forgot to do something..."

* * *

"Liz!"

It still sounded like she was underwater. Her conversational Denobulan was no match to the damage her hearing had sustained from the blast, and she did not fully understand what was happening, where she had been taken, what had happened to Phlox.

"Liz!"

And now, someone was calling her name. In English.

"Liz!"

Suddenly catching sight of a familiar face, Liz grabbed onto Alice for dear life.

"Alice, where's Phlox?" she stammered.

"Liz, follow the light for me? With your eyes?"

There _was_ a light flashing somewhere in her vision, but Liz ignored it. "Where is he Alice? I can't find him."

"Liz, I don't know. But if you let me make sure you are okay, I can find out."

Liz couldn't understand why her friend was being so unhelpful. Didn't she understand? "The building _exploded_. No one will tell me what's going on. I couldn't understand them, anyway. I need Phlox, Alice. _Where is he_?"

Alice sighed. "Can you walk? Come with me..."

Alice led her by the wrist out of the chaotic, swirling hellscape of the emergency reception area, up several flights of stairs and into a relatively quiet ward.

As Alice pulled her towards a particular bed, Liz felt her heart rise in her chest.

Phlox?

...but it wasn't.

Between the swelling, bruising and burns it took Liz a moment to recognise Malcolm Reed.

"Liz," he rasped. "Are you alright?"

Malcolm looked terrible enough that the question made Liz giggle uneasily. "Have you seen Phlox?" she asked.

Alice lowered her into a chair. "You two, watch each other," she told Malcolm and Liz firmly. "And you, Messop, watch both of them."

Messop nodded agreeably. "Like one of your hawk-birds, Alrox?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "I'm going to find out what's happening. To find Phlox. Vax, I need you to..."

Alice got no further because four armed Denobulans walked into the ward.

"Which of you is Alice Harper?"

"She's Alrox," Vax responded helpfully, pointing.

"You are under arrest," intoned the guard.

"Why?" Malcolm asked, sitting up in alarm, flinching with the effort.

"Erm... I suspect it's because I'm a deserter. Or a fugitive? Traitor, possibly?" Alice said uncertainly, as she was unceremoniously handcuffed.

"Well, which is it, you demented harridan?" Malcolm demanded in a tone somewhere between confusion and worry.

Alice, however, was spirited away before she could meaningfully answer.

"Shame," observed Messop sadly. "I liked her."

"Indeed," agreed Vax. "Nobody else ever seemed to want to work with us."

* * *

They were dead.

Phlox sat on a crisp hospital bed, in a small space, which had been ineffectually partitioned from the emergency ward with some hung sheeting.

Chenteel, and her rare golden eyes. Resba, and her perfect memory. Palayjah, whose newborn smell he could still conjure perfectly in his mind. Mettus...

It was impossible.

It was true.

 _dead._

And he was alive.

He still lived because, seconds before the blast, Elizabeth Cutler had run towards him, grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the street.

Seconds.

It was impossible.

It was unthinkable.

But it was true. _Must be true_. What other explanation could there be?

Elizabeth Cutler had come running, like her life was in danger. Elizabeth Cutler had pulled him into the street, mere _seconds_ before.

 _Elizabeth Cutler had murdered his family._


	17. Chapter 17

"You know more than you are saying, don't you?"

His question seems to unduly alarm T'Pol, and so Trip, in no mood for an argument, clarifies quickly. "About the Romulans. That's why you are so dead keen on Hoshi's theory about that tanker."

T'Pol pauses for a long moment, with that look on her face, that adorable one - that _infuriating_ one - which means she is trying to think how to phrase something for the benefit of his puny human brain.

He _hates_ that look.

He _loves_ that look.

"I have friends," she says at last. "Former colleagues, perhaps, on Vulcan, with access to certain information. Which they may have shared with me."

Trip shakes his head.

A smile ghosts at her lips.

"There'll be consequences if you are right, you know," he says after a long pause. A long pause filled with soft light and almost-smiles. "War, probably."

"Yes, that's true."

Trip sighs. "Hell of a time to have a baby."

She lowers her eyes, and Trip ponders the length of her eyelashes. The shadows they cast on her cheeks.

"Are you sorry?" she asked. "The baby? Would you change things, I mean?"

Trip's guard is down, lowered by half-smiles and eyelashes. So he tells her the truth. "No. I mean, there are many things I'd change about the past few years, if I could. Probably a few things I'd change about what's coming, too. But you, being here now? Being pregnant? No. No, I wouldn't change that."

Her eyelashes moisten, clump together. The shadows change.

He wipes her eye with gently with his thumb, spreading them again.

She looks at him then, something clearly on her lips, but it stays unspoken.

For a few minutes the universe is just this room. Just them. Complete.

"Will we ever get them back, do you think?" he asks, after a time. "Malcolm, and the others?"

"I suspect we will. Eventually," T'Pol answers. "At least I hope so. If we cannot cure this plague, or at least render those infected non-contagious, then we will have greater problems than three stranded humans."

Trip sighs. "Between our away-team and the embassy staff, there are twenty four murdered humans down on that planet. I just want our people back."

"I know."

"Just not...you know, _here_ , breathing the same air as _you_."

T'Pol smiled. "I know."

* * *

"It's not safe."

Messop, Alice's inane underling, blocked her way. Liz fantasised about breaking the little shit's arm.

"I wouldn't go in there, Lez."

Liz scowled. "I _need_ to find Phlox. He's my... I need to find him. He's having the worst day of his life and I'm not there! Is he in there?"

Messop frowned. "I don't know."

"Can't you look it up? It's Phlox. I can spell it for you. In Denobulan, if need be."

"I could look it up," Messop demurred. "But the records haven't been particularly reliable for days. People are not paying enough attention to their paperwork. It's really bad. Vax and I are considering writing a strongly worded..."

"Then I'm going in there," Liz growled, ducking around Messop and heading towards the crowded emergency ward.

Messop actually grabbed her shoulders to stop her. "You mustn't."

"Why not?"

"It's dangerous," Messop replied, looking uncomfortable for once. "Because you are human."

Liz frowned, trying not to roll her eyes when Messop wiped his hands on his lab coat after releasing her shoulders.

"WHY is it dangerous?"

"The 'wave," Messop replied awkwardly. "The news wave? Do you have those on Earth? It's a broadcast of, well...news. Well, the 'wave is reporting that a human woman blew up a residential building outside the city. It killed children, families, elders. Horrible thing. But, anyway. You need to stay out of sight, or I don't know what will happen."

Liz's heart plunged in her chest. "But I didn't... why are they saying a human did it, Messop? Do you know?"

Messop shrugged. "Multiple witnesses reported seeing a human woman run from the building just before...you know...Anyway, the authorities say they are still investigating but pretty much all the opinion-makers are saying that this woman must have been the bomber. It...it wasn't you, was it?"

Liz swallowed. "I've never killed anyone."

At this Messop brightened considerably. "Oh good! Say, can I ask you something?"

"Okay," Liz replied, distantly, her head spinning. She _had_ run from the building mere seconds before it exploded. She had pulled Phlox into the street. Phlox...

"I'm thinking of asking Vax to be my first wife," Messop chirped. "What do you think?"

"I think you deserve each other," Liz answered dully, sinking to the floor.

* * *

Alice kept reminding herself not to panic. Instead she tried to occupy herself with predicting what Denobulan jail might be like. She certainly hadn't previously given the question a moment's thought.

 _Loud_ , she decided, after a while, but beyond that, she had little idea.

That particular avenue of distraction exhausted, she turned her attention to the LEO supervising her in the back of the transport. He appeared to have classified her as 'not a threat', after maybe thirty seconds, and was now paying her very little attention. He looked distracted. Sad.

"Are you all right?" Alice asked -she hoped, anyway!- in her very meagre Denobulan,

The LEO glanced at her, before turning away again. "My second wife is pregnant," he replied simply.

 _Might want to stop arresting surgeons, then_ , Alice thought to herself, but around she offered a Denobulan phrase that meant something between 'good luck' and 'my best wishes'.

"Thank you," the LEO replied, before going back to ignoring her.

Finally, the transport arrived at its destination and she was passed off to yet more minimally interested officials.

Being processed was interesting enough, Alice found, and someone had even gone to the trouble of translating some of the paper work for her.

 _Desertion_ she read. And _Willfully disobeying superior commissioned officer_.

So _that's_ what I officially did, she thought. Good to know.

After the paper work - and a strip search made vaguely hilarious by the fact the guard in charge of it had never seen a human before - Alice was deposited in a large holding cell, with about fifty Denobulans.

It was indeed regrettably loud, but it was at least spacious, and to Alice's fascination, it was equipped with something like a television screen, displaying what appeared to be a news broadcast. The audio, if there was supposed to be any, was lost in the ruckus, and would have been Denobulan anyway. There were subtitles, with which Alice did her best, but mostly she was lost, and soon her attention drifted to her various cell mates, most of whom had simply returned to their various conversations after giving her a curious look.

I wonder what happens now, Alice thought. It was a slightly worrying thought, but was a much preferable to wondering if Messop and Vax were taking good care of Malcolm and Liz.

A sudden drop in the ambient chatter caught Alice's attention and she quickly realised the news broadcast had changed. It now showed pictures of a ruined building, of people crying in the street. Alice was unfamiliar with most of the words, but she did catch 'home', 'families'. 'Children'. And 'dead'.

The visual then returned to the news readers somber face. He was clearly saying something upsetting.

Then, Alice saw the Denobulan word for human flash onto the screen and ever pair of eyes in the cell turned towards her.

The first blow fell without warning, and knocked Alice from her feet. Between the second and the third, Alice's noticed flecks of blood on the floor in front of her.

That's not Denobulan blood, she had just enough time to think. That's mine.

Then a strong kick connected with her ribs.

"Stop," Alice gasped. Or maybe she only _thought_ it.

Either way, they didn't.

* * *

Liz had staggered off in search of Phlox, and also, Malcolm rather hoped, to tip-off Enterprise about Alice's arrest.

Meanwhile, to pass the time, he was mentally plotting an escape route from the hospital, using a floor plan Vax had cheerfully provided. Malcolm's favourite part of his plan so far was the part where he bashed Vax over the head with it.

After replaying that part a few times in his imagination, he was interrupted by Vax herself barging back into the room, shouting into a communication device.

"I told you, she's not here," Vax was saying. "Here, talk to this one." She thrust the communication device into Malcolm's working hand.

"Hello?" he said uncertainly.

" _Malcolm?_ "

"Hoshi!" Malcolm replied in astonished delight. "Hello?!"

" _Malcolm! Are you okay_?"

It _was_ her. Her voice was strained and crackling from poor reception, but it could not have sounded more wonderful to Malcolm. "Well, more or less okay," he replied, aware from the sound of his own voice that he was smiling, broadly. "Can't complain, anyway. You?"

Hoshi's laugh crackled. " _Yes, you idiot! WE are fine!_ "

"I'm glad," Malcolm replied. "Bit rough, though, calling me an idiot. I'm in the hospital, you know."

" _Yes, Malcolm. I know. It's so good to talk to you. You can't even...Listen though, I'm trying to reach Alice. Liz too, actually, at Phlox's place, and I can't get either of them. Have you seen Alice?_ "

"Phlox's building was destroyed," Malcolm replied, his mood sinking rapidly. "I've seen Liz, and she's okay, and she says she saw Phlox after, but I think Phlox lost people in the blast... "

" _Oh, that's horrible! We had no idea!_

"...oh, and Alice got arrested or something."

" _Damn! We thought that might happen_ ", Hoshi cursed. "Don't _worry about that, we'll sort it out at our end. Can you get me Liz though? Or Phlox?_ "

Malcolm looked hopefully at Vax, who narrowed her eyes, but did in the end wander off grumbling. Hopefully in search of Liz. "On it Hoshi," Malcolm reported. "Say, what did Alice _do_ anyway?"

Hoshi paused for so long before answering that Malcolm was briefly worried they had lost their connection. " _She wanted to help with emergency,_ " Hoshi said eventually. " _It sounded like they needed more doctors. Captain Archer said no, but she went anyway._ "

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Typical. Oh, here's Liz!"

Liz walked over to the bed as if in a trance. She was pale enough to alarm Malcolm, and he was about to ask what was wrong, when she took the communicator from his hand and listlessly greeted Hoshi.

" _Liz! Great to hear your voice. It sounds like you've had a bit of a day, and I'm sorry, but the Captain has a mission for you._ "

Liz exhaled heavily. "Okay, I guess. But have you been monitoring the news waves? Because we've got a problem."


	18. Chapter 18

" _I'll get on it_ " Archer had said, unpromisingly.

It turned out that he'd meant he'd get Travis on it. Because it was Travis who called back about forty minutes later with the news that Liz was NOT an official suspect in the bombing of Phlox's building.

" _It has all the same characteristics as the shuttle, embassy, and border bombings, which Liz could not have been present for,_ " Travis reported.

It should have been good news, but Liz didn't feel terribly relieved.

Malcolm seemed inclined to argue, as well. "Well, it can't all be the same bomber, can it? The shuttle bombing was a suicide bombing."

" _Are you sure?_ "

"Well, rather sure!" Malcolm snapped. "I mean my view was _somewhat_ obscured by the blood in my eyes and the aerosolised flesh hanging in the air, but that _is_ what it looked like!"

There was a slightly longer pause, long enough for Malcolm to look slightly chagrined.

Liz offered him a reassuring shrug.

" _A cell, then,_ " Travis said eventually. " _Either way they aren't looking at Liz. Which is a GOOD thing._ " He'd then signed off, leaving Malcolm and Liz to ponder the situation alone.

They'd sat in silence for a while. Malcolm seemed to have a headache. Every so often, he would rub the bridge of his nose, or one of his temples with his left hand. Something about the way he did so suggested that, each time, he'd attempted to do so first with his right hand, and then remembered he couldn't. It was making Liz feel queasy.

"I suppose you'd like to know _WHY_ I ran out of that building just before," Liz said eventually. "Despite not being the bomber, I mean..."

"Running out of a building of Denobulans seems like a perfectly sensible course of action to me," Malcolm answered. "I'd expect I would have been doing so constantly, if I were you."

Liz sniffed. "Phlox _must_ think it makes me guilty, though, Malcolm. I mean he'd be here otherwise? Wouldn't he?"

"The man just lost half his family, Liz," Malcolm replied gently. "Give him a chance. The two of you have been together for years really, even if it has only been official for one. I'm sure once you explain..."

"I _CAN'T_ explain Malcolm," Liz exclaimed, miserably. "How can I? ' _No, Phlox, I had no idea about the bomb. I was just running out of the building because your recently murdered son was a terrifying creep?_ ' How the hell can I say that to him?"

Malcolm blinked. "Sorry, _WHAT_ happened? Liz, are you all right?"

"No, I'm NOT 'all right', Malcolm," Liz replied, tears suddenly streaming. "I've nearly been murdered twice! I HATE it here. I want Phlox, and I want to go home."

Her outburst hung in the air.

Then, quietly, Malcolm answered her. "Yes. I do too, actually. In fact, with hindsight, I think we should have gone to Kreetassa, instead. Gotton Porthos to urinate on things, gotten Archer to apologise for it in the stupidest way possible. Sounds like much more fun than any of..." He broke off, eyes widening.

Following his gaze, Liz's heart leapt in her chest.

In the doorway stood Phlox. He stood in silence for a moment, watching them. Then, still silent, he strode towards Liz.

Then, his hand closed around her throat.

* * *

Sayden moved back into the city with caution.

Hilariously, the news waves were blaming the last bombing, and lately the border bombing as well, on the little human who had pulled The Unhealer out of the building. Another human had apparently managed to incite a dangerous prisoner riot within minutes of arriving in detention. Humans were dangerous, the opinion makers were squawking. Ruthless. Evil.

It was so delightful when your enemies turned on each other.

Still, Sayden took care. Just because the opinion makers were talking themselves in circles, it did not follow that the authorities were so easily bamboozled.

And he could afford to be patient now. His prey was stuck on world, could not escape.

He ambled over the former quarantine border, past the mourners, the silent vigil, the multicoloured flags and scraps of fabric secured to every surface still standing nearby. He even offered a discrete salute to the cafe where he had lain in wait, its windows now repaired and hung with more of that same fabric, its door boarded shut.

 _Hezgatga Hospital_ the paramedic had said. That's where they were taking the dead. And the living.

It was as good a place to start as any.

But it hardly mattered, because wherever The Unhealer went, on this squalid, festering planet, Sayden would follow.

He would find him. And they would die together.

* * *

Liz was dying right in front of him, her fingers splaying and scratching uselessly at Phlox's, her face turning red.

Instinct drove Malcolm out of his hospital bed, but couldn't take him any further, because the moment he moved, the world spun uncomprehendibly. He fell heavily on his paralysed arm, which, eerily, didn't hurt at all. His ribs, which hit next, did hurt however - agonisingly so. And his head, a moment later - well that sort of pain transcended what he could bear and might have fractured his sanity had it continued for a second or so longer.

"Phlox!" He shouted, or whispered, or screamed. "Phlox, stop!"

He was ignored.

Liz's frantic scratching was growing weaker.

Do something else, Malcolm pleaded with her in his head. Go for the eyes, the solar plexus, _something_.

But Liz couldn't seem to think past her own closed airway. Her face darkened from red to an ugly purple, and her eyelids began to droop.

"Phlox, she didn't do anything," Malcolm begged. "Listen to me. _Please!_ "

Phlox answered him coldly, without loosening his grip. "It occurs to me, Lieutenant Reed, that you and I are long overdue a conversation. A conversation about just _WHY_ you were in the brig, while I was on Qu'Vat Colony."

His words, this sudden accusation, stunned Malcolm to a halt despite what was happening before him. "Phlox!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking.

"Please be patient, Lieutenant. It will be your turn in a moment."

Spurred back into action, Malcolm inched along the floor, even though he knew it was hopeless. _Try something else then_ he demanded of himself, but nothing occurred to him, so he did the only thing he could still do and let out a guttural cry for help with the last of his strength.

Which, amazingly, seemed to work.

A young Denobulan man, appeared in the doorway, and after just a seconds pause, he ran and Phlox, knocking him away from Liz, who fell heavily to the floor, gasping for air, retching up bile, and still clawing at phantom fingers on her throat.

"Stop it," the young man shouted furiously at Phlox. "Just stop it! This isn't her fault. It's mine."

At these words, Phlox stopped struggling and stared into the face of the man who'd accosted him.

Then Phlox's face seemed to somehow collapse and tears sprang into his eyes.

"Mettus?"


	19. Chapter 19

"I met him at an Anti-Collation of Planets meeting," Mettus began, "A rally, I suppose you would say."

Mettus seemed to be the only person in the room currently capable of speaking.

Phlox was leaning, glassy-eyed against the wall, his gaze shifting between his son, Liz and Malcolm, looking at them as if this must be some sort of dream.

Liz, once her larynx had ceased spasming, had held herself together precisely long enough to help Malcolm back into his bed, and then collapsed to the floor, crying silently.

Malcolm himself felt even weaker than he had before. The customary surge of adrenaline, usually welcome in a fight, had seemingly turned every still-functional muscle in his body to jelly. Except, that was, for his heart, which was positively thundering. All in all, he felt rather like he was dying, which was unfortunate because he didn't really have the time for it right now.

He needed to listen to what Mettus had to say.

"He said his name was Sayden, and that he had contacts high up in the Denobulan government. He told me that there was 1a secret plan being developed to release a population control agent on the unsuspecting populace. That the Coalition of Planets secretly wanted to reduce the number of Denobulans on Denobula. To make room for colonies of Humans, Andorians, Tellarites..."

"And you believed that?" Malcolm interrupted him, incredulously. "Why the hell would we want colonies here? We've got our own damn planets!"

Mettus stared witheringly in reply. "It is well known that Earth is basically a wasteland after that Xindi probe..."

"No it isn't!"

"...And Andoria is little more than a barren iceworld..."

"They LIKE the bloody cold!"

"Malcolm, shut up and let him finish, will you?" Liz snapped. "Or we'll never get anywhere."

"Anyway," Mettus continued. "I reserved judgement at first, but then, after the deaths started, I sought him out. He said it was too late to stop it, but that if I could give him some information he could get me a vaccine for Palayjah. I was worried about my sister. So I agreed."

" _What information_?"

Mettus hesitated, but then, squaring his shoulders, he replied. "He wanted to be informed when my father was coming back to Denobula and where he'd be staying."

Malcolm blinked. His head hurt. "But why? The human embassy was bombed, but not the Vulcan embassy. And the shuttle was bombed at the same time. Humans are the common element. Then the third blast disabled the quarantine zone allowing travel to where Liz was staying, and the fourth destroyed the building almost killing her. Is that what this is about? Someone really hates humans but not so much Vulcans? No accounting for taste, I suppose, but..."

"No," Mettus interrupted shortly. "I never told Sayden Liz was coming. I wasn't going to spread it around that my father is... _involving himself_ with an alien. It's bad enough that he associates with them at all."

Malcolm frowned. "So _what_ then? Presumably this Sayden didn't need Mettus just to find out _when_ Enterprise was coming..."

"God, no," Liz confirmed, her voice rasped, but was steady. "It's wall-to-wall news broadcasts out there."

"So, it's something about Phlox's specific movements...why would anyone..."

"JUST LISTEN TO YOURSELVES, would you?" Mettus shouted suddenly. "I thought he was just going to talk to my father, to try and get a well-respected doctor on his side. But instead he used me to murder my family. My sister, her baby, my _mother_. You're talking about it like it's some sort of puzzle. What sort of monsters are you humans?"

Malcolm sighed. "You're right, Mettus. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise to him, Malcolm," Liz muttered darkly. "I don't care if he just saved my life. He isn't a good person and we clearly can't trust him."

Mettus sneered at her. "Don't flatter yourself, human. I was saving my father from the shame of murder. Not your irrelevant life..."

"And just what makes you so sure this Sayden is involved?" Malcolm interrupted before things could escalate. He briefly looked to Phlox for help in this, but the man still seemed dazed.

"I saw him," Mettus answered, turning away from Liz. "Elizabeth Cutler and I had a misunderstanding..."

"Ha!" Liz rasped bitterly.

"...a _misunderstanding_ , shortly after my father set out. She raced out of the door before I could explain that she was overreacting. I was trying to catch her before she could poison my father against me. In my rush, I forgot that humans have no sense of direction. I assumed from her initial route that she was headed to the side door, and I took a quicker route. When I got there, there was no sign of her. I ran into the street to look and that's when I saw him. Sayden. Then the building went down and I realised it was him. He murdered my family, because my father disgraced himself by associating with _you people,_ and he used me to do it."

After this outburst, Liz seemed entirely beyond words, and Malcolm himself could only think of inflammatory ones, which he held onto. Reluctantly.

When someone broke the long silence it was Phlox, speaking for the first time. "I cannot believe, Mettus, that you would, of all things, inject your pregnant sister with some mystery substance you go from a man at one of your juvenile rallies! Have you not an ounce of common sense?!"

"As it happens," Mettus replied icily. "I hadn't administered it to her yet, as there weren't yet active cases in our..."

"So you still have it?" Liz interrupted sharply.

Mettus nodded, somewhat churlishly, then produced a small vial filled with a pearlescent purple liquid from his pocket.

"You're probably wasting your time," Mettus said as he handed the vial to Liz. "Sayden's a liar and a murderer. It's probably just coloured water."

"Maybe," Malcolm acknowledged. "But maybe not. Maybe Sayden supposed a man in a family filled with doctors would have the sense and resources to check on the legitimacy of his bribe. Phlox, Liz, if this is genuine could it be of any use to us?"

Phlox tilted his head, reaching to take the vial from Liz's hand. "Possibly. We should..."

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Liz shouted, pulling her hand away from his as if scalded. "Don't you _dare_ touch me."

Phlox froze, and stared at her with a sort of mute horror.

"Liz..." Malcolm began softly.

But Liz shook her head. "No. We shouldn't give it to him, Malcolm. He tried to kill me not five minutes ago! We should keep it, get it to Enterprise maybe. Or maybe Alice can do something with it... But we should keep it."

"That vial is mine, human," Mettus growled moving towards Liz. "It cost me everything."

"You stay away from me as well," Liz shouted, backing up and closing her fist tightly.

"Calm down, please, both of you," Malcolm pleaded, certain he was about to witness something unpleasant. He once more looked, fruitlessly, to Phlox for help.

"If that vial is valuable, it _belongs_ to Denobula," Mettus snarled.

Liz backed herself up to the wall. "You _will_ stay back."

"All right, THAT's ENOUGH," Malcolm roared, ignoring the agony it caused in his unstable ribs. "I am the senior officer here! Now, Liz, you will hand the vial to me and I will give it to Phlox. Phlox you will restrain yourself, and your son, if necessary, from going anywhere near crewman Cutler until she says otherwise. Phlox will analyse that vial and, if we do find anything useful, we will share that information with EVERY BLOODY SENTIENT BEING IN THE GALAXY, if they want it. Is that understood?"

Nobody said anything for a moment. Malcolm may not have been able to hear them over the pounding in his head if they had.

Finally, Phlox delicately cleared his throat. "I think Commander T'Pol might have some concerns about sharing information about sharing information regarding biological weapons with the pre-warp civilisations."

Malcolm smiled cautiously. "Then Commander T'Pol can come down here and stop me."

Phlox smiled very slightly in reply.

Liz placed the vial in Malcolm's outstretched hand, and Malcolm placed it in Phlox's.

Another throat was cleared. This one belonged to Vax who had appeared at the door and was staring at the four of them reproachfully.

"Too much shouting," she scolded. "Hospital, you know. Also, I'm engaged now! Isn't that exciting?!"

"Oh, well done!" Malcolm replied sweetly. "Just two more husbands to go, then? Maybe things aren't completely hopeless for you after all!"

Incredibly, Vax walked away looking pleased.


	20. Chapter 20

T'Pol took a few deep breaths to steady herself. He had even come late, the odious man! If that had not been a deliberate ploy to vex her, then he was luckier than he was smart. Still, she must find her centre, the course of her life could depend upon the next few minutes.

"Come in," she said, affecting a neutrally chilly tone. All those times her mother had made her practice that voice...it had seemed such an illogical use of time. Yet now it was as if T'Les reached out from the past to protect her. To protect _them_. Her daughter, yes, but also her never- seen granddaughters, the memory of one, and the future of the other. In this moment, T'Pol treasured the memory, those hours of practice, and she wrapped the voice around her like a blanket, and like armour. "Sit down."

He did sit, wearing the smile of a victor. "I take it you've had time to consider my proposal?" He sneered.

Oh, she had.

She'd _considered_ luring his to a failing airlock.

She'd _considered_ ordering him onto Hoshi's mining barge and consequent exile.

She'd _considered_ placing her fingers on his face and attempting to tear his knowledge about her child right out of his brain.

She'd _considered_ bending to his will.

She'd _considered_ breaking every tooth in his hateful, sneering head.

"Indeed I have," she answered in T'Les's chilly voice. "And I see no other solution to the unpleasant situation you have placed us in. You must resign, effective immediately."

There was little about this conversation which was not either frightening, or profoundly distasteful, but seeing that grin fall from his face was a small, sweet bright spot in the mire.

"I don't think you understand what is happening here," Halliwell snarled in shock, and poorly concealed fury.

T'Pol allowed one eyebrow to rise. "I understand perfectly, Crewman Halliwell. From what you have given me cause to know about your character, I see no way to salvage your career on Enterprise. I will not insult your intelligence by pretending this saddens me."

"You _will_ give me that promotion, or I _will_ tell Commander Tucker _exactly_ how you ended up pregnant."

"That would be unwise," T'Pol replied, now lacing her voice with a tone one might use with a difficult child. "As things stand, _I_ am already unable to give you a reference in good conscience. If you were to tell Commander Tucker anything, then your defects of character would become widely known and _many more people_ would be unable to give you a reference in good conscience. I suggest you accept the consequences of your actions and not make things any worse for yourself."

"You're bluffing."

T''Pol sighed heavily. "It is not my fault, Mr Halliwell, that you engaged in blackmail so _unskillfully_. The problem, for your reference, is that I have no actual incentive to comply with your demands. Once you have what you want, you will still have as much leverage over me as you did before. Your lack of character informs me that you would only make ever more demands, until eventually meeting them would be impractical. All I would do by complying with your first demand would be to compromise myself. Therefore, I decline, and urge you to turn your attention to salvaging what reputation you still can."

"You bitch." Halliwell sprung to his feet radiating fury.

T'Pol began to calculate how many broken bones might be defended as reasonable should the altercation turn physical.

"You _BITCH_!"

This second invective was louder and spittle-flecked. His face was reddening.

 _Now would be the time for deescalation tactics_ , T'Pol thought. _If I felt so inclined._ _I don't._

"You haven't won," Halliwell shouted. "Don't you dare think you've won! That _thing_ you're carrying, that monster you whipped up in your laboratory? It's an abomination, and so are you, and your relationship. So, I am going to tell Tucker. And I'm not going to stop there. And sure, you can fire me, but you can't ruin my career. To the right people, I'll be a hero."

"Perhaps," T'Pol conceded coolly. "But not to Starfleet."

Curling his lip, Halliwell stalked out of the room.

With a heavy heart, T'Pol followed.

* * *

Somehow or other, Travis had found himself in charge of liaising with the away team regarding the mission to Hoshi's barge.

It wasn't going well.

" _All right, then I'll go,_ " Malcolm was saying over the crackly comm line.

Travis rolled his eyes.

" _Oh, don't be ridiculous, Malcolm_ , _"_ Liz snapped in reply _. "You can barely stand. Or, you know, hold more than one thing at a time._ "

" _A scanner IS only one thing, Liz. And you can't go up there alone._ "

" _Yes, I can!_ "

"NO," Travis said at almost the same time Malcolm did. "Liz, listen, won't you at least consider going with Phlox?"

" _I'm not going_ anywhere _with him_!"

" _Then maybe Mettus could_..."

" _That's no better!_ " Liz insisted.

" _Okay,_ " Malcolm replied, sounding defeated. " _So, it's got to be Alice, then. Travis, do you have any idea how much longer it's going to take you to bail her out, or whatever?_ "

"I was wondering if you were ever going to ask," Travis replied coolly. "Actually, I'm a little worried about her. The authorities are giving me the run-around, worse than usual. They won't even let me talk to her."

" _That's typical isn't it?_ " Malcolm replied lightly. " _She comes charging down here, following the siren song of Denobulan babies in need, then gets herself arrested and lost in the Denobulan justice system almost immediately._ "

"The siren song of Denobulan babies?" Travis replied incredulously. "That's what Alice told you, is it?" Then he thought, _And if you actually believed it, I know a nice moon you can buy..._

" _No, that's what Hoshi told me_ "

The casual reply landed in Travis's chest like a shard of ice. "Oh, did she?" he laughed bitterly.

Malcolm ignored it, if he'd heard it at all. _"Travis, can you try to figure out when Alice can get herself back here, and then call me back? I'll see if I can work something out this end._ "

" _I can hear you, you know_ " Liz grumbled.

"Sure thing, Malcolm," Travis answered. "Anything for you."

* * *

T'Pol kept pace with Halliwell, as he marched towards the transporter room. He must have checked where Commander Tucker was before meeting with her, T'Pol realised. She wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse.

"I'm nearly there," Commander Tucker said querulously upon seeing two science officers march into the room. "These things do take time you know. Site-to-site transport is a bear and I'd rather nobody got turned into goop. It just wouldn't be good resource management."

"I have important information for you, Commander" Halliwell said with a triumphant glance at T'Pol.

"Oh?" Trip answered Halliwell, but he was looking at T'Pol, in mild bemusement.

And he continued looking at her, as Halliwell began his pronouncement. As one fact after another fell from his sneering lips. Even after Halliwell was done, Trip still looked at her, although by then his expression had turned to stone.

T'Pol held his gaze. She could do that much.

Finally, Trip looked away, toward Halliwell, and answered the man. "And?"

Halliwell blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Well, crewman," Trip said, exhaling loudly. "The way you came barging in here, when you knew I was busy with a critical project, and announced you had 'important information' for me? That made me naturally assume you were going to tell me something I didn't already know? Are you?"

Halliwell gaped at him. "You KNOW?"

Trip smiled thinly. "Well, I'm not an idiot, you know. Sometimes, the accent fools people, but if they are bright, the rank usually clears it up _before_ they make an ass of themselves."

"But at the poker game, you never said..."

"I don't discuss such things in public," Trip interrupted casually. "At least not with nobodies like you. Now, go away. I've got work to do."

Rooted to the spot, T'Pol watch Halliwell do so, his face a mask of shock.

"You knew?" She asked Trip, the moment the door closed.

He looked at her sadly for a moment. "No, T'Pol," he said softly. "No, I didn't know. I wasn't going to give that slimy, little shit the satisfaction, but...no. I had no idea." Then he turned back to his work and refused to speak to her further.

Eventually, she had no choice but to leave.


	21. Chapter 21

Liz watched from the corner as Phlox worked. She'd insisted on watching him analyse the vial, she'd said she didn't trust him not to tamper with the analysis. It had been a bitter thing to say - and not true at all.

She was no longer truly frightened, but she was still angry - furious- and reeling from shock and grief. It seemed so trivial, when she thought of Palayjah, of Resba and Chenteel, but she might never go home again, to Enterprise or to Earth. She might never see her parents again. Never again see her brother, and his gurgling, toothy twin sons. And while she'd never really planned to have children, had never felt that yearning, the choice was no longer hers to make. And the man she'd been in love with - the man she'd been in love with THIS MORNING - was lost to her, even though he stood steps away.

"Have you found anything?" she asked, mostly to distract herself, but also aware she was conceding something.

He stared at her for a while before answering, his face filled with sadness.

Liz wondered what he might have been considering saying to her during that silence. Was it grief that he yearned to express, or was it remorse? And could there ever be words enough for either?

"I have," he said at last. "And, to my surprise, I must admit that at first glance, it seems genuine. Not a vaccine in the traditional sense, but a form of gene therapy, potentially for rendering an organism insusceptible to the plague agent."

"Oh..." Liz murmured. "So it would, what? Alter whatever biochemical receptors the plague virus uses to enter the host cells?"

"Well, we still don't know that it's a virus," Phlox replied. "But yes, I suspect something very much like that. And if the virus, if it is indeed a virus, can't enter the host cells, it can't modify them..."

"And so the autoimmune reaction would never start," Liz finished. "That sort of gene therapy would have to be species specific, wouldn't it?"

Phlox nodded. "That's very likely. And also where things get stranger. This therapy is not intended to work with the Denobulan genome. It could never have helped my Palayjah. But it might help us now. If we can figure out what species it is intended for, then we can perhaps reverse engineer some aspects of the virus itself. Which would mean we can finally identify it. And we'd have a head start on developing treatments, as well."

Liz frowned. "But, what if it is intended for Romulans? I mean, if Malcolm and Hoshi are right, then that will be the most likely scenario, wouldn't it? And we don't have any Romulan DNA sequences. _Nobody_ does."

"We must hope that it is not intended for Romulans," Phlox replied. "Or perhaps that this Romulan Star Empire is peopled by one of the species in our database. After all, if we know _nothing_ about them, then it follows that it's possible we've already met them."

Liz sighed, and took an unconscious step closer to Phlox. "I can't believe we could be that lucky."

"Whereas, I must believe it," Phlox replied softly. "Some good must come of this terrible day. As unimaginable as it feels right now, some good _must_ come."

* * *

"Trip, are you okay?" Archer asked his friend with concern. When a man who could take surprise interspecies pregnancies more or less in his stride looked _this_ shell shocked, it was something to be concerned about.

"Ask me something else, Jon," Trip replied tiredly, but firmly, not l oozing up from his scanner.

 _All right..._ "Is that transporter ready?"

Trip shrugged. "Um, yeah, I think. I sure wish we could test it some more, but failing that, it's as ready as it's going to get."

Archer shook his head. "We're running out of time, Trip. If Hoshi's right, then that ship could power up and leave orbit and any time, and we would miss our change of proving the Romulans caused this mess. They shouldn't get away with this."

"I don't disagree," Trip replied. "But a few more tests...I mean, does this mission even have personnel yet? Everyone we have down there is traumatized, or missing, or half-dead. Apart from the people that _are_ actually dead."

"Liz and Phlox. I know neither will be happy about it, but they will just have to. We can't afford to wait any longer."

At that, Trip put down his scanner and stood up. "And what are you going to do if one of them refuses the order, Jon? Or both? Are you going to have them locked up as well?"

"Don't be like that, Trip," Archer sighed. "You didn't want Alice going down there any more than I did. Quite a bit less, I'd say."

"Doesn't mean I wanted her arrested," Trip replied. "What good did that do anyone?"

Archer considered some sort of speech regarding following orders and rank discipline, but his heart wasn't in it. "I didn't really want her arrested either Trip. And no, I won't hold Liz or Phlox to this order. But at the same time I'm not telling them that. We _need_ to send someone to that ship."

"I could go."

"Trip, don't be stupid," Archer hissed. "We are not exposing anyone else. I'm _not_ leaving any more people on Denobula."

"T'Pol thinks we'll get them back. I mean, not soon or anything, but a year or two..."

"I said, _no. No one else gets left behind._ Especially not you."

Trip met Archer's eyes. "And why _not_ me? Shouldn't it be me? I've been on a drone ship, spent some time there. And, if we exclude Malcolm I'm the only one how has. So why exactly _shouldn't_ I go?"

"He keeps volunteering to go, you know," Archer replied, blatantly dodging the question. "Malcolm. He keeps insisting he can handle it. He made exactly the same argument you just did."

"Yeah, well, Malcolm's an idiot," Trip responded, and Archer caught just a hint of mirth in it. "Plus, there's a war starting up here and he's missing it. That must just be killing him."

Archer chuckled bleakly. "Well, if we do go to war, I'll see if I can get it backdated to when the shuttle exploded. Then at least he can say he was heroically injured in it."

"Good idea, I think he'd like that," Trip replied with a thin smile. "Although, for my part, I'm really hoping that mining barge is just a mining barge.

Archer squeezed his friend's shoulder. "I do too, Trip."

"It's not going to be, is it?"

"I don't think so, no."

* * *

"Alright, Travis, understood,"

While Archer's orders chafed, Liz resigned herself to them. She certainly didn't want to be responsible for someone else being stranded here. Also, something about the sad, but stoic way Phlox had received his orders had opened her heart, just a crack.

" _Thanks, Liz. We appreciate it,_ " Travis transmitted back, clearly relieved. " _Are you having any luck with that vial, by the way?_ "

"We're still searching the database for a DNA match," Liz responded vaguely, more focused on the upcoming mission. "Until we have one there's not much that we can... Oh wait, there's a match!"

" _There's is?_ "

"Yes! There a... Oh wait, no. It's a nonsense match. Must be a coincidence." Liz replied, staring at the screen in profound disappointment. "It's come up matching the Valakians of all people, but they aren't even warp capable and..."

" _Did you say VALAKIAN?_ "

Something about Travis's tone pulled Liz up short. "Yes...but I don't think..."

" _No, LISTEN,_ " Travis insisted. " _These transmissions Hoshi detected going to that ship. She said they looked Valakian. We blew it off as a coincidence as well, but TWO coincidences?_ "

Liz frowned. "Well, the Valakians might well have cause to hate humans, if they ever found out we could have cured them, but didn't. And...oh! And _Phlox_. They'd hate Phlox! I was never the target. _Phlox_ was!"

" _Liz, what are you...?_ "

"But it didn't work...the man that Mettus... It would be personal... He could still be coming!"

" _Liz!?_ "

Ignoring Travis's increasingly frantic calls, Liz ran though the corridors of the hospital, dodging gurneys and irate nurses. She tried the lab, Malcolm's room, the cafeteria, all to no avail.

"Mettus, where is your father?" she called breathlessly when she saw him idling in a stairwell. Her throat, still tender from before, was now so ragged from exertion, that she barely recognised her own voice.

"He went outside for some air," Mettus replied. "What's the matter with you?"

"Outside?"

Liz ran in the direction Mettus had indicated, until she reached a heavy door. She threw herself against it and burst into the shock of the cold night air.

She was just in time to see Sayden's blade catch the light as it was thrust up under Phlox's ribs.


	22. Chapter 22

Sayden had reached the hospital a few hours before and waited in the shadows outside. He had stretched his muscles when he was not observed, and prayed silently when he was. He had prayed to the yore-gods, his departed family, the spirit of vengeance, itself. He had called upon them _all_ to guide his hand.

He had the poison stowed in the buccal pouch within his cheek. At this dose it would act swiftly.

The old stories told him that, if two enemies died at the same moment, they would appear together, before the yore-gods, and their souls would be weighed against each other. The soul found wanting would belong to the soul triumphant, and the soul triumphant could choose to cast his enemy into the fire of non-renewal, never to return to the world of the light.

Sayden was not sure he believed such stories, but others did, and he had promised to die with The Unhealer for their sake. So that those Valakians at home should find comfort, in the final days. Sayden had no wish to live beyond his vengeance, in any case. He could not imagine that emptiness.

He'd been prepared to wait days, but the yore-gods smiled, and in mere hours, The Unhealer revealed himself. Sayden offered a farewell to this life, then drew a blade, concealed in his long coat.

"You are Phlox," he said, as he approached the man. It filled Sayden's heart with joy to see how his enemy was weighted with sorrows.

"I am," The Unhealer replied heavily. "But I am not working here, today. And frankly, you do not appear in urgent need of medical care, so it is unlikely anyone in there can help you today. May I suggest you contact a doctor within your family?"

"I have no family," Sayden replied, baring his teeth. "They are all dead. Dead by your actions."

The Unhealer frowned in confusion. He did not yet realise who he faced. "By my actions?" he murmured. "Do you mean your family was in the building too? Are you my daughter's neighbour? I do not recognise you..."

"You condemned my whole species," Sayden snarled, drawing closer. He was looking for the moment. The moment of recognition, of _comprehension_. He wanted to see the moment that Phlox _knew_. "I am Valakian, and we are dying. But we do not die unavenged. Denobula shall die too. And you, Unhealer, the destroyer of both our civilisations? You die tonight."

There was recognition then, of a sort, a weary, baffled horror, and Sayden decided that it was enough. Before Phlox could offer any resistance, Sayden drove the knife into his chest.

Blood trickled down Sayden's wrist even as he forced his prey down to the ground. The Unhealer's eyes were still full of uncomprehending horror, and Sayden bore his gaze into them. It was time for them to find out, together, if there was further justice beyond this life.

Sayden sucked the poison, held in his check, out between his teeth and bit down. A burning astringency filled his mouth. There was no need to swallow, a lethal dose would be quickly absorbed by the lining of his mouth. It burned painfully, and it cleansed him.

Sayden heard the garbled cry only a fraction of a second before she plowed into him. It was only Phlox's pet human, he realised, but she'd been running at full pelt, and so she'd knocked him off his balance. Sayden grabbed her as he fell, and spat what poison remained in his mouth into her face. The creature shrieked and clawed at her eyes. Leaving her writhing, Sayden pulled himself to his feet, turning back towards Phlox, and stepped right into his own blade.

The blade had penetrated his abdomen, Sayden realised curiously. His blood poured out of him, its shade Valakian, not Denobulan. He was unmasked now to all that beheld him, and it felt fitting. Holding the hilt of his blade was The Unhealer's own kin. The man who had traded his father's safety for his sister's - that sister now dead, under the rubble of her home.

 _Mettus_ , that was his name.

Sayden might have felt for him, were it not for his profane father. But blood was what blood was. And so, with his last ember of strength, Sayden pulled the knife from his gut, and plunged it into the neck of The Unhealer's son.

Then, death found Sayden, and he went willingly.

* * *

"Help!" Liz screamed into the night. The second time she remembered to call in Denobulan.

Then, she crawled towards Phlox. Her right eye was useless, and felt somehow strange in her head. She didn't dare investigate. Her left eye was bad, but she could still see a little, and she crawled towards Phlox, who was himself reaching out for Mettus.

Phlox's wound was sucking air into his chest cavity, leaving his left lung in imminent danger of collapse and his right lung protected only by the fragile Denobulan mediastinum. Liz clamped her hand over the wound trying to create an airtight seal.

But it was no good. She would need fabric. Her shirt.

"Help me, Phlox," she begged. She tried to get him to plug the wound himself, long enough for her to pull off the shirt. But Phlox was frantically using both his hands to compress the bleeding on Mettus's neck, and he would not budge.

In desperation, Liz pulled her shirt off, leaving the wound uncompressed for as little time as she could before plugging it with the bunched fabric. When Phlox's chest was more or less airtight, she resumed screaming for help.

Mettus was gasping, and each gasp was growing weaker. His blood ran through his father's fingers.

"Elizabeth," Phlox wheezed, his eyes never leaving his son's. "What I did to you was unforgivable, but I must ask you a favour - beg one in fact - that if you have ever loved me, you will do something for me now."

"What is it?"

"I'll not be strong enough to talk for long. When they come, you must tell them that Mettus is me. A _doctor_. A doctor will get an operating room, a surgeon. A doctor will be saved before others for the greater good. Otherwise, they might not operate on him in time."

Liz's heart screamed in her chest. "What about you?"

"I cannot lose any more family today, Elizabeth. _Please_." Phlox's voice was growing weaker.

Liz screamed for help a few more times, then snatched up her communicator, which had been knocked to the ground when she tackled Mettus.

"Travis!"

A few, lifelong seconds later, Travis answered. " _Liz? Are you...?_ "

"Travis, listen! Phlox is critically injured and so is Mettus..."

" _Mettus...?_ "

Liz shook her head. There was no time. She could hear some commotion over near the building, but she had no peripheral vision to see it. "Travis, we _need_ Alice!"

" _Liz, we can't..._ "

"No!" Liz shouted. "This is an emergency. You tell Archer he has to drop whatever charges he's laid against Alice, and get her released. Right now! People are dying. Phlox is dying!"

There was a slight pause, every second of which Liz spent screaming for help.

And then an answer. " _Liz, this is Captain Archer. Alice isn't coming. Something happened and she was injured and... well, she isn't coming. You'll just need to do your best._ "

Archer had sounded numb, but Liz didn't care. She screamed and flung the communicator into the gathering darkness. It bounced off the chest of a Denobulan, rushing to help. Liz's failing left eye could not make out his face.

"What happened?" the approaching Denobulan asked her.

More shadowy figures entered Liz's vision.

"He's a doctor," she said, hollowly. "A surgeon. The best one I know. You have to help him."

And she pointed at Phlox.


	23. Chapter 23

Baird cleared his throat. "Sir, we are being hailed from the surface."

"Liz Cutler?" Archer asked, wheeling around quickly. "Did she say what the hell was going on down there?"

 _Phlox is dying_ she'd said, just before they lost contact with her.

"It's Lieutenant Reed, actually sir. He said something about a Verculian killing someone called Mettus and injuring Dr Phlox and Crewman Cutler."

Archer blinked. "What the hell is a Verculian?"

"Not sure, sir," Baird replied. "It sounded something like Verculian. Honestly, sir, Lieutenant Reed was very het up so I didn't quite catch it. I did ask him to repeat himself, but he just swore at me and demanded to speak with someone who wasn't a 'blistering pile of frog jelly packed into a flight suit'."

"Did he?" Archer replied headily. "That's terrible! You know what, crewman? Take the rest of the shift off to recover."

The moment Baird wandered away in bemusement, Archer rushed to the comm. "Malcolm? What's going on?"

" _I said_ Valakian _sir. At least I think that's what Liz said. Anyway, there's no time. Phlox is getting help, but Mettus is dead already, and Liz seems to be dying in front of us. We think she's been poisoned._ "

We? Archer thought in confusion, and he could indeed hear a pair of voices nattering away in the background. "Who is 'we'?"

" _Me, and a pair of med students Alice plucked off the reject pile and let drill into my skull. Consequently, they seem to have grown quite attached to her, and have decided to...where IS she, anyway? Liz needs more care than we can give her._ "

"We will help you as best we can from here, Lieutenant," T'Pol cut in levelly. "I presume you have scanned her with the medical scanner Dr Harper took from Enterprise? Please send the results to us, immediately. I will consult with the medical team on the T'Kenara, and synthesise an antidote if I can, and transport it to you."

Archer nodded hollowly to T'Pol, as she cut the line.

"We are receiving the scans of Crewman Cutler now, Captain," she said in reply. "In the meantime, we now have a new problem."

"We have to get our people off that planet," Archer murmured, as if to himself. "They're being cut down like..."

"Captain! The mining barge," T'Pol interrupted forcefully. "We now have no one on world capable of going to that ship. We must reconsider sending a team from Enterprise."

"Abandoning more people down there is unacceptable, T'Pol," Archer snapped.

T'Pol rose to her feet. "With respect, Captain there is no other option. The Denobulan authorities are too overwhelmed to even consider the evidence. And while there is a Vulcan embassy staff, by the time the command crew of the T'Kenara has reviewed the evidence and given clearance for a mission we may have missed our chance to gather a crucial piece of evidence for Romulan involvement in what has happened here. The Valakians could not have done this alone."

"The Valakians," Archer replied still trying to fit this piece on information into place. "Do they really hate us this much? To collude with our enemies to destroy us? We tried to help them."

T'Pol nodded. "Yes. But we helped them far less than we could have. I maintain we acted correctly, but Valakian resentment is not incomprehensible. Earth resented Vulcan for far less."

Even in the middle of it all, Archer couldn't help but smiling at T'Pol's diplomatic use of 'Earth' rather than 'you, Captain'. They'd made progress since that time. Since that day they had turned their back on the dying Valakians and warped off to their next adventure.

How many times had he even given the Valakians a thought? Archer wondered to himself. He'd done so occasionally, yes. But not often.

Now, he suspected it would be a while before the consequences of that decision failed to keep him up nights.

"Right," he said more firmly. "So we need a volunteer to go to the mining barge and then be quarantined on Denobula."

T'Pol hesitated. "While I appreciate you would rather minimise crew loss, protocol dictates that we should send two people."

"I know T'Pol," Archer nodded. "I'm the other volunteer..."

"Captain, you must not..."

"...and that's final."

T'Pol did look displeased, but she acquiesced without further argument. "If you insist, Captain. In any case, there is a small possibility that whoever we send to the mining barge will not need to be quarantined. A short while ago, Dr Phlox and Crewman Cutler were examining what appeared to be a gene therapy treatment for the Denobulan pathogen, tailored to a particular species. the Valakians, as it turns out. Using this analysis, we may be able to reverse engineer enough information about the pathogen in order to make a diagnostic test. If we can do so in time, we would only need to quarantine those who go to the barge if they are indeed exposed."

"That's something, I suppose," Archer replied with a smile. "Stay on top of that won't you?" He then opened ship wide communications and explained the situation, including T'Pol's small ray of hope. Then he asked for volunteers.

This done, he retired to his ready room, sat down heavily in the dark and waited. He stirred only to sooth Porthos, who was clearly unsettled by his actions. "It's okay, boy. I'll have you sent down to me, if I get stuck down there. And I won't let the Denobulans eat your kidneys. Who knows? Between the two of us, we might start a craze for pet dogs down there..."

Finally, the door signaled indicating he had his lucky volunteer.

It opened. He should have known.

"Hoshi," Archer sighed. "Well, at least you aren't Trip."

* * *

"We'll be wearing bio suits. And a diagnostic test is only an hour or two away. And the mining barge might not be contaminated in any case."

It was no good. He was refusing to even look at her. Instead he just stared out the mess hall window. She could see the blankness of his face reflecting back at her.

"I'm the obvious person to go, Travis," she tried next. "I can help translate anything we find, probe into the computer systems, prove once and for all that the Romulans were here. That they were the ones that are really behind this Valakian attack."

Travis rolled his eyes. "Oh, sure thing, Hosh. That's what this is about. _Translating_."

Hoshi took a deep breath and fixed her eyes resolutely on the wall. "Just what are you saying, Travis?"

"I'm saying, you're a coward," he replied with a low growl.

"And just how am I a 'coward', exactly?"

Travis laughed humourlessly. "Oh don't play dumb. It's genius. This way, you don't have to choose. You can leave it up to fate. Or maybe you _have_ already chosen, and you can help fate out by tearing your suit a little? That way, you get what you want and you look good doing it. Genius."

"If I wanted to go down to Denobula I could have just gone," Hoshi snapped.

And Travis laughed once more. "Oh, I know _that_ Hoshi. I know. And that's why I called you a coward."

Hoshi's chest tightened, but she held her nerve. "I just came to say I'll see you soon. I thought you'd want to wish me luck."

"Luck with leaving me, or luck with starting a war?"

"I'm not leaving you, Travis!", Hoshi insisted. "I'm going to be careful, and T'Pol is going to get that test working. I'm coming back."

Travis shrugged. "I suppose we'll see, won't we?"

Hoshi left without replying.


	24. Chapter 24

When Liz woke, the world was mostly dark.

She tried to call out, to ask if anyone was there, but only inarticulate moans came out. She was answered anyway.

"Liz, it's me," she heard Malcolm say from somewhere to her left. "Malcolm," he then clarified.

 _Lucky you clarified_ , she thought. _Else I might have mistaken you for one of the other English men currently on Denobula_. Sadly, her numb lips were clearly not up to expressing the thought aloud. Later, she promised herself. No doubt we'll be spending plenty of time together.

 _Unless I'm dying, that is_.

"You've been poisoned," Malcolm was now explaining. "That Valakian assassin spat some sort of caustic liquid into your face. Enterprise has synthesised an antidote and you are getting it now. But you need absolute rest, especially until someone can make sure there's no ongoing damage."

 _Absolute rest, huh?_ Liz thought, _As might be good, for example, if someone had a very recent severe head injury?_ This time she even muttered something aloud to that effect.

And, it must have come out more comprehensibly than she thought, because Malcolm laughed.

"Yes, well, I'm an officer, aren't I? Do as I say, and not as I do, Crewman Cutler. And oh yes, I'm fully aware this is a ridiculous thing to say, but try not to worry too much about your vision. An eye surgeon friend of Phlox did a flying visit in between surgeries and thinks that, with a corneal transplant your left eye should come out almost good as new..."

 _Conspicuous failure to mention my right eye, Lieutenant Reed_ , Liz thought with a ghost of a smile.

"And, Phlox is doing well. Lost a lung lobe, yes, but that stab wound missed all the major arteries. I realise he tried to kill you and everything... But I thought you'd want to know anyway. Professional interest, and all of that."

You're an ass, Malcolm Reed, Liz thought, not unaffectionately. But there was something else she needed to know. She gathered all her strength around the question. "Mettus?"

"No. He didn't make it Liz. Vax said he died within a few minutes of her finding you."

Liz felt like crying. She wondered if she still could. "How am I going to tell him, Malcolm?"

There was no way he could have understood her words, so he must have guessed. "You don't, Liz. I mean, we can't leave it to the likes of Vax or Messop, but I'll do it. I'll tell him. Now, try to rest."

* * *

T'Pol slouched in the ready room chair. For the mission itself she would be both expected and needed on the bridge, but while the Captain and Lieutenant Sato prepared to transport over, she had a few minutes to herself, in the darkness.

Or rather, she did not, for after a moment, the door chimed insistently.

"Come in," she said resignedly, but then pulled herself to attention.

It was Trip.

"Are you not needed in the transporter room?" she asked.

"Not for the 'over'," he said dully sitting down. "That's a straightforward transport. It's the 'back' that's going to be tricky, what with screening for this pathogen mid cycle and changing the destination if need be. That's going to be tricky. I have to say I wouldn't mind Malcolm's help with that."

"It is not available," T'Pol replied simply.

They stared at each other for a long time.

"So," Trip said at length. "You grew this fetus in a test tube..."

"Embryo," T'Pol clarified.

"...whatever. You grew the embryo in a test tube..."

"Petri dish."

"Are you going to let me talk or what?" Trip scowled.

"Sorry. Continue."

"Embryo, Petri Dish. Happy?" Trip sighed. "Anyway. That means you did tests and stuff, right? You know it's healthy? The embryo I mean..."

"It's reached the fetal stage of development now," T'Pol said, feeling a small temptation to a smile.

"You're killing me here T'Pol."

"I apologise. And yes. Tests were done at the blastocyst stage and biochemical viability was confirmed prior to implantation."

Trip lowered his eyes then, sighing. "You had me completely snowed, you know? Completely. I was totally convinced this was just some kind of miracle."

T'Pol took an enormous risk and reached for his hand. "Formation of a blastocyst which was spontaneously viable was extraordinarily unlikely. Successful implantation without any preparation was as well. This WAS a miracle, Trip. Just not quite the one you thought. That said, I should never have done this without talking to you about it. I just, I couldn't bear to raise your hope and then break your heart again. I wanted to bear the loss of hope alone, and I acted as I did to make bearing that loss as easy as I could. For myself. To know I'd done all I could. I'm sorry."

Trip did nothing for a long time. But then he took her offered hand. "Just one more question. And then we never speak of this again."

"Any question you wish."

"Do you know if it is a girl or a boy?"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow, confused. "To a given statistical probability, yes, I do. Do you wish for me to tell you?"

"No. I wish for you NOT to tell me. I want to be surprised."

* * *

"Are you ready?"

The words made Archer's helmet fog up slightly. He clicked his tongue in irritation as a junior engineer corrected the suits environmental controls. Within seconds the fog was gone.

"As I'll ever be, sir." Hoshi replied, and the faint scratchy echo of these words answered the question about whether her radio was working.

She'd packed a box of her favourite personal possessions, and left it tidily on her bed. For someone to later transport down to Denobula. In case.

Archer nodded sharply, and turned to T'Pol. "Enterprise is yours, Commander. Although, I hope you'll forgive me for wishing that it's not for too long."

T'Pol smiled faintly. "I have been wondering if it is perhaps a conflict of interest for me to be working on the cure."

"I'm sure you'll do the right thing," Archer replied, in kind.

"Indeed I will," T'Pol assured him. "Whatever the right thing turns out to be, in any case."

He laughed at this. "Let's get going, Hoshi, before she gets any ideas."

"Yes, sir," Hoshi answered with more joviality than she truly felt, and followed him onto the transporter pad.

And a moment later, they stood in a new place, a darkened utilitarian corridor.

"Looks a little bit labyrinthine for a mining barge, don't you think?" Archer observed after a few minutes when one corridor twisted into the next.

His voice was tinny and high pitched, and Hoshi took a moment to curse whatever Starfleet penny-pincher had installed such poor quality speakers into the bio-suits. What if she were trying to decipher a complex tonal language? She made a note to complain. When she got back.

Archer, meanwhile, was checking on the AV link to Enterprise. "What do you think, Trip?" he was saying. "Look familiar."

" _Well, it looks a little like the other drone ship and a little like the building on Epsilon Legato. But not exactly like either. Then again, if we are right and the drone ships are built from preexisting vessels, there's no reason they'd all look alike._ "

Archer shrugged. "True. Only so many ways to build a corridor, though. What we really need is a nice computer interface that Hoshi can identify as Romulan. Good thing we brought you, actually, Hoshi."

"It's feeling like less and less of a good idea to me, sir," Hoshi joked back, and then wondered if she was joking. "I'm not detecting any life signs, but I am detecting traces of Valakian DNA."

"I suppose we know how our assassins got here, then," Archer replied. "That's something. Whosever technology this turns out to be, it sure isn't Valakian. So someone helped them. Any other DNA?"

Hoshi examined the scanner readings uncertainly. "I'm not sure, sir. There's some much older DNA but it's pretty degraded. It's reading as possibly Vulcan, but there is a low degree of confidence with the identification."

Archer shook his head. "I'd say we can probably rule the Vulcans out as Valakian co-conspirators for now. I doubt they'd use biological weapons to break the will of Denobulans. Not when a series of their formal dinners could accomplish the same job."

" _We had a bit of static on that last sentence, Jon,_ " Trip's voice called over the comm. " _Commander T'Pol couldn't make out a word of it. She asked if you'd care to repeat_."

"That would be a negatory, Trip. I was only singing the virtues of our closest allies. No reason to embarrass the Commander by repeating it."

They moved through the ship in silence for a while, in search of some sort of language or terminal. "The technology running through the bulkheads scans as similar, but not identical," Hoshi exclaimed, frustrated.

"We'll look for the bridge," Archer said in acknowledgement. "If there's anything to find, it will probably be there."

They moved slowly, impeded by the bio-suits. Hoshi kept on eye on her scanner and the other on the shadows. However deserted the mining barge might be, it had a presence to it. She could swear the walls were listening.

" _T'Pol to Archer_ "

The hail made Hoshi jump.

Archer started as well, although not as dramatically. He offered her an easy shrug of fellow feeling as he answered. "Archer here."

" _Captain, in consultation with the Denobulan Health ministry and the T'Kenara's science division, I believe I have identified the Denobulan pathogen. It is an artificial bioengineered retrovirus, capable of modifying its host's DNA._ "

"I take it this would be beyond the technology of the Valakians," Archer replied glancing at Hoshi as he did so.

" _Indeed Captain. We are running negative controls, but should have confirmation shortly. In the meantime, we have already begun work on the diagnostic test, and will examine the readings you have taken on the Drone ship so far for any signs._ "

"Thank you T'Pol," Archer acknowledged, before turning to Hoshi. "That's good news isn't it? Well not GOOD I suppose. Good would have been if this was all just a freak of nature, I guess."

Hoshi nodded, although she wondered if it really made a difference.

They wove onward through the vessel, which appeared not to have discrete decks but instead, an ever-rising spiral.

"This could be it," Archer said when they reached an unresponsive door.

After a few minutes of joint effort, the door was hot-wired open and Archer was proved right. A rudimentary bridge stood before them. Hoshi approached a dimly lit terminal. Within seconds she had her answer.

"Sir, I am prepared to state that within my professional opinion, this computer terminal displays a Romulan dialect."

She'd not really intended the oddly formal phrasing, but it felt retrospectively fitting.

"That's it, then," Archer replied pensively. " _Casus belli_."

The moment rested on them heavily.

"Attention, humans," Jonathan Archer's voice boomed from all around them.

"That wasn't me!" Archer exclaimed unnecessarily.

"This vessel is the sovereign property of the Romulan Star Empire."

"Why does it have my voice?" Archer demanded, sounding perturbed.

"It has no natural cadence," Hoshi replied quickly. "It's likely a program stitched together from voice recordings, logs..."

Archer nodded briskly. "Do you have authority to speak on behalf of your Empire?" he tried. "We have cause to suspect Romulan involvement in the deplorable recent events on Denobula. The Coalition of Planets strongly requests immediate negotiations for the cessation of hostilities and that restitution..."

"There is no negotiation with the Romulan Star Empire," Archer's own butchered voice interrupted. "There is only obedience or death. We instruct you to immediately disband your Coalition and embargo all communication between former member planets. Additionally, all starships must return to their systems of origin and not venture beyond the termination shock of their native star. Finally, such tribute as is sought by the Romulan Star Empire will be supplied promptly."

"When did I even say the word 'tribute' in a log?" Archer muttered. "I very much doubt those terms will be acceptable to our member planets," he continued more loudly. "Perhaps we could arrange delegations to a summit? In the meantime, a ceasefire while we provide humanitarian assistance to Denobula..."

"Obedience or death," his own voice answered implacably. "You have heard our orders."

"That's a really terrible voice render," Hoshi observed. She felt lightheaded. "Good speakers though."

The panel next to her changed. "Some sort of count down," she said alarmed.

" _It is a self-destruct sequence,_ " T'Pol informed them over the comm.

Archer grimaced. "Great. How is that transport-out protocol coming along?"

" _We will proceed as quickly as possible. Stand by._ "

Hoshi's chest began to tighten. Her eyes were fixed to the glowing count down.

"Hoshi, don't look at that, look at me," Archer said sharply. "They'll beam us out in a few minutes and we'll be In Enterprise's decon if we are free of the virus, or on Denobula if we are infected. But either way, that countdown isn't our problem, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Hoshi agreed, but the numbers were still somehow hypnotic. _Undeniable_.

"It's easy for me, I suppose," Archer mused lightly. "I can't read them. Ignorance is bliss as they say."

"Yes, sir."

"What are you hoping for, by the way?" Archer asked, his tone still light. "Enterprise or Denobula?"

And now, watching the numbers spiral down Hoshi allowed herself to think. A war was coming, a war for the very future of the human race. And she'd always wanted children. _Someday_. And she'd want them to grow up free. And to know she'd done her part to make that happen. She didn't want to stand vigil to Denobula's end. She wanted to save Earth.

"I want to go home," she whispered. Just as the transporter beam grabbed her and took her to her future.


	25. Chapter 25

"Transport successful, Commander."

T'Pol nodded a curt acknowledgement from the captain's chair. "Back us off to a safe distance and a higher orbit. And I want our full scanner array pointed at that drone ship. Going forward, we'll need as much information about these drone ships as we are able to obtain."

"Aye Commander."

T'Pol stared at the ship on the view screen. It had been in orbit around a Coalition world for months and no one had noticed it. The pit of her stomach felt like ice. Even now, Starfleet Command would be receiving their transmission regarding the events on the drone ship. Even now, they would be frantically calling a conclave among the Coalition world leaders. And they would declare war. After the genocidal attack on Denobula, the treaty all but demanded it. War with an enemy that could hide a ship in orbit for months.

And she was pregnant.

"We've reached to an orbit higher than the predicted debris field."

"Polarise hull plating," T'Pol ordered. "Time to explosion?"

"Ninety five seconds," Hoshi Sato, called striding onto the bridge.

"Report," Jonathan Archer called, following moments after.

T'Pol simply relayed the ships status and surrendered the Captain's chair. Lieutenant Sato, she noticed went to stand by Travis Mayweather. A human could not have overheard their conversation, but T'Pol was not human.

"You came back," Travis whispered to her. "I didn't think you would."

"Don't get any ideas," Hoshi replied. "I came back for myself, not for you. If you want to be part of my life, well, we can talk about it. But you are never to call me a coward again."

Then the mining ship exploded, and they all watched what felt like the start of a war in silence.

* * *

" _So it's official then?_ "

Archer nodded, although of course the man he was speaking to could only hear him. He nodded to convince himself, perhaps. "Yes. We just got word from Starfleet Command. The Coalition of Planets has declared war against the Romulan Star Empire. And, there's more. I'm sorry Malcolm, I fought for you all but, Starfleet has refused to authorise your evacuation from Denobula, even if you were to test negative for the virus. Hoshi and I were one thing, in bio suits on a ship that wasn't infected with the virus anyway, but you..."

" _I've been breathing the air in a hospital in the infected ca_ _pital city for days,_ " Malcolm finished. " _Fair enough, I suppose._ "

Archer smiled to himself. "You are taking all this a little better than we all expected, Malcolm."

" _Well, I've been cultivating a sense of perspective,_ " Malcolm replied fatalistically. " _After all, I have to go to go tell Phlox that his son is dead in a minute. I don't suppose you have any advice?_ "

Archer grimaced. There was going to be a lot more of those sorts of conversations for him going forward. "Speak slowly and clearly. Don't worry about making things better, because you can't. Just try not to make it any worse."

After a moment of silence passed between them, Archer continued. "I'll send you down a copy of the official declaration of war, for your interest. And there's another file, too. Only... maybe don't read that one until after you talk to Phlox? It might make you cranky."

Malcolm laughed uneasily. "Really? I'm stranded on Denobula, of all places, I've lost the use of a limb, I have to tell a friend that his child is dead, and oh... we're at war. How much worse can things get?!"

"Just...try to remember that sense of perspective when you read it, okay?" Archer replied with a ghost of a smile. "Goodbye, Malcolm. It's been...well, it's been interesting, hasn't it?"

* * *

As it happened, Malcolm hardly needed to say anything to Phlox. Somehow he'd already known.

"Mettus is dead, isn't he?" Phlox asked softly moments after Malcolm had entered the hospital room and asked how he was feeling.

"Yes," Malcolm answered, inwardly cursing Archer's not very useful advice. "He is. He died shortly after you were found, without regaining consciousness. I'm so sorry, Phlox."

Phlox closed his eyes, and nodded slightly. Then he spoke again, his voice almost steady. "And Elizabeth?"

Malcolm swallowed. "She's alive. She..."

"...I asked her to make sure that they saved Mettus."

"Phlox..."

Phlox cut him short with a wave of his hand. "I shouldn't have asked her that. I shouldn't have said what I said. _Done_ what I _did_. Perhaps, she even tried. Her eyes were so badly damaged. Perhaps, she didn't know who she was pointing at. Either way, will you tell her...tell her I'm sorry?"

"I will," Malcolm answered, not sure what else to do. "Is there anything else I can..?"

"My other daughter, Messanta, she's trying to travel has ere. Could you keep an eye on her once she gets here, support her as best she can? She's lost a great deal of her family and has few close contacts here in the city."

Malcolm smiled. "Of course, I will."

Phlox nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you. And I hope it goes without saying, Malcolm, that I'm sorry for threatening to murder you, whatever the provocation."

"Of course, Phlox. I don't have nearly enough friends to lose them over silly things like murder threats."

Malcolm took his leave then, as Phlox was tired, and he allowed himself a small moment of self-congratulation that he'd managed to not bollocks that up too badly.

 _I'd give myself a solid B- for diplomacy there,_ he thought to himself _._

The thought took on a horrible irony, barely a minute later, once he'd read the new orders contained in Archer's mysterious, second file.

* * *

The fly was back. It was rather a pretty one, a brilliant luminescent blue. And, while it was a slightly disconcerting sight in a medical ward - even a prison medical ward - it had so far had the good grace not to land on her. Its buzzing _did_ keep her awake somewhat, but compared to the lights that were never off, it wasn't a large impediment.

 _Alice_ , she told herself firmly, _do_ _not_ _name_ _the_ _fly_. _It's_ _probably_ _someone's_ _escaped_ _breakfast_.

The problem was that she was shackled to a bed, and no one spoke to her, so there was precious little else to do...

...Apart from tentatively investigating just _how_ _badly_ she'd been injured, of course, and given how _that_ had been going so far, well, she'd rather talk to the fly.

 _Susan_ , she decided. _The fly's name is Susan_.

"You look terrible!" somebody said. "Really, honestly terrible. I can't take my eye of you for five minutes, obviously."

Blearily, Alice turned her head.

 _Oh, of course,_ she thought _._ And then a moment later _, Couldn't he have come a minute earlier, before I named the fly? Now, on top of everything else, I have to live with the fact that I'm the type of person who names flies._

She cautiously tested her voice. "You looked pretty terrible yourself, you know, after you got yourself blown up. I was just too polite to mention it. How did you get in here, anyway?"

Malcolm smiled. "I have terrifying new powers."

Alice assumed she'd misheard him. "Has nobody bothered to fix your arm yet? Surely they could have let one or two babies die in order to fit you in."

"No sense of priority, I suppose," he replied casually. "You'll just have to do it yourself."

Alice smiled. "Alas, no, I think. See, there are 27 bones in the human hand, and out of 54 bones all together, I estimate I've multiple fractures to 37 of them. I don't think I'm a surgeon anymore. This is really more the type of thing where, if I stick diligently to my physiotherapy, I'll be able to hold a pen by Christmas. And I think we both know I _won't_ stick to my physiotherapy diligently. Unless prison is REALLY boring, that is."

"Oh, that's what you think," Malcolm smiled. "But the fact is, you aren't going to prison. Earth's new Ambassador to Denobula thinks that you being stuck on a planet with no whisky OR coffee is quite enough punishment, all things considered."

Alice blinked. "There's a new Ambassador? Just how long have I been here?"

"There is," Malcolm sighed. "And don't laugh, but it's me."

Alice did laugh. It hurt _a_ _lot_. It was worth it.

"And you haven't even heard the best part, yet," Malcolm continued. "And, you really shouldn't laugh because this horror is happening to you too. Because the human embassy got blown up, we've been given rooms in the Vulcan Embassy! So, once I spring you, I'm dragging you back there, AND making you do your physiotherapy. Every day. Until you sorely regret every bowl of soup you ever brought me."

Alice shrugged, which also hurt. "You think I don't regret the soup already? Look at the state I'm in! Seriously though, Malcolm, you've got no obligations here."

"I really do, though, don't I? Aren't you here because of me?"

Alice didn't answer for a long moment, then she slowly shook her head. "After the Xindi attack, I was working in one of the hospitals. A lot of people died because there weren't enough of us. Or because we needed to eat and sleep occasionally. I've never really gotten over it. I'd have come down here for anyone."

"Anyone?" Malcolm asked raising his eyebrows. "Even for Baird? Or that MACO that keeps calling you 'Ginger'?"

"Yes, heaven help me, even them."

"Even Porthos?"

Alice smiled. "Oh, I'd save Porthos before I'd save you."

"Well, of course," Malcolm replied, smiling also. "That's just good career sense. And don't smile. It only makes you look _worse_."

* * *

"So that's it then, I think" Trip said. "Everything get down there okay?"

Malcolm had not asked for much to be sent down, actually. He'd claimed it was because he didn't want to subject his books and what not to whatever horrendous quarantine radiation would be required when he left, but Trip suspected it was a way of asserting that he would not be trapped on Denobula for long. Trip hoped he was right.

" _Looks good, I think_ " Malcolm answered.

"Alice must have been glad about all the coffee we sent down for her," Trip observed by way of prolonging the conversation.

" _Actually, I haven't told her yet. I'm being abandoned, you know. You have to let me have SOME fun._ "

"Well, okay," Trip said, letting just a hint of his emotion leak into his voice. "Try not to start a second war with Denobula, Your Excellency."

" _Will do, Commander! Try not to die in the war without me._ "

"Yeah. See you soon, Malcolm."

 _"You too, Trip."_

Trip cut the line and walked slowly back to his quarters.

T'Pol was there. "I thought you might need company," she said.

"Just make sure you scientists cure this thing, okay?" he said, collapsing into her arms with a sigh.

"It will remain a high priority, I'm quite sure."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"A baby and war," Trip said. "Truth is, I'm not sure which one is scarier."

T'Pol raised her eyebrows. "You are being illogical. The answer is obvious."

They folded their fingers together, and spoke at the same moment.

"The baby," they lied.

* * *

 **THE END**

 **Thank you to all of the readers and reviewers who have shared this trilogy with me. Words can't express...**

 **\- MostDismalFeldsparkle**


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